


London Calling 'verse

by dreambastion



Series: London Calling [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Post-Canon, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 59,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreambastion/pseuds/dreambastion
Summary: Eames needs Arthur's help with a job and Arthur agrees to do it. They end up spending about a month living and working together.They fall for each other.Here be the story of how, and other things that happen in their lives along the way to their Happily Ever After.





	1. London Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames calls Arthur for help and when it’s all said and done, they both end up with more than they bargained for.

 

Arthur opened his eyes far enough to read the clock by the bed and cursed as he picked up his insistently beeping phone.  Most people knew better than to risk their limbs by calling him before the sun was even up.  He cursed more when he realized that the number flashing on the screen was not one that he recognized, but it was routing through his private phone number, which only a handful of people in the entire world knew.  He debated for a breath, two, then pressed the button to answer the call.

“Whoever this is, you better be bleeding out or I will end you… messily.”

There was silence from the other end, the caller quiet for long enough that Arthur was about to hang up, when Eames’ voice finally came across the line.

“Really, Arthur, is that any way to greet someone calling to offer you a job?”

“You have a job for me?”  Arthur’s suspicious surprise was deserved – Eames rarely called him for work.

“I do, Arthur, I have a job that is right up your alley,” Eames replied, and Arthur thought he could detect a slight slurring in his words.

“Are you drunk, Eames?”

Another pause.

“Maybe.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Come on, pet.  You were made for this job; you’re the only one I would call…” Eames began, but Arthur cut him off.

“Goddamit, Eames, you call me at five in the morning while I’m in LA visiting Dom and the kids because you want to offer me a job and I just know this is leading to some sort of sexual innuendo and I swear to god I am going to cause you so much pain the next time I see you…”  Arthur was really warming up in his rant when Eames interrupted him.

“Arthur!  I swear it’s a legitimate job…”

“Yeah, that’s what you said the last time we were in Paris and all you were trying to do was get me to pick up your laundry, remember?”

Eames’ sigh was loud and harried from the other end.

“Arthur… I need your help.”

Arthur had inhaled a large breath to continue his bitching, but it left him in a rush of air at that statement.  Eames never asked for help, never admitted he needed help.  He would coerce, bribe, con, anything else he could think of to get someone to do something, but to come right out and ask?  Not from anyone else, but especially not from Arthur.

_ Dammit _ .

“Fine.  What have you got?  And do we need the others?” Arthur asked.  This time the sigh he heard was full of relief.

“No one else.  Someone took shots at my family.  I think it was a warning for me, but I have no idea who is trying to send the message.  I need you to help me track them down,” Eames paused a moment, then continued in a fiercely angry tone, “and then I want to make them regret their stupidity.”

Arthur had many questions going through his mind, but he knew most of them would have to wait until he and Eames were face to face.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Amsterdam.”

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Well… If they figured out who my family is, then I’m sure they know where my usual haunts are.  I have a couple of safe houses I doubt they found, but they aren’t the kind of places you would want to stage a possible long-term job from,” Eames replied.

“How long are you safe in Amsterdam?”

“I should probably leave tomorrow.”

“Okay.  Leave, bounce around as much as you have the money for, and be in Chicago in two days.  Contact me once you’re in the air with the arrival time, then text me when you land.  Don’t contact me again before then,” Arthur said.

“Why Chicago?” Eames asked.

“Because you’ll be safe there.  Just do as I said.”

“Will do,” Eames paused, “Thanks, Arthur.”

“Don’t thank me until we know this is going to end well.”

++++++++++

Eames called Arthur somewhere over the Atlantic, but had to leave him a voicemail.  Arthur didn’t call back, and Eames followed the next step of his instructions and texted him  _ I’m here _ as the plane was taxiing down the runway to the gate.

_ Dark blue pickup just past cab stand _

Eames stared at the texted reply, puzzled, but chalked it up to Arthur being Arthur.  He only had a carryon, so he went straight from the gate outside into the cool Chicago air.  Sure enough, there was a blue truck idling in front of a line of cabs.  Eames walked towards it, looking at the driver through the rear window – whoever it was had on a black hooded sweatshirt and a cap, with the hood pulled up.  He stopped by the passenger door long enough to confirm that the profile was Arthur’s, then got in the truck.

He eyed Arthur up and down, noting that in addition to the sweatshirt Arthur was wearing jeans and running shoes.  He must have stared longer than he thought, because Arthur made a sound of irritation as he put the vehicle in drive to leave the airport.

“Really, Eames, it’s not like you haven’t seen me in these kinds of clothes before,” Arthur said.

“It’s something about the combination of the clothes and this truck that’s throwing me,” Eames replied.

“I wasn’t about to drive my own car here, not knowing if you were followed.”

“Yes… well… good point.”

They were silent for the rest of the drive and Eames stared out the window.  Arthur changed lanes constantly, turned down one street and then another, and Eames knew he was making sure they weren’t being followed.  Eventually they pulled up to an auto shop and Arthur pulled the truck through one of the garage doors.  Eames got out when Arthur did, and followed him through the space until they stopped and Arthur threw the keys to a man at a desk.

“Thanks again, Eddie, I really appreciate it,” Arthur told him and the man, Eddie, smiled.

“No problem, man, glad I could help out.  Your car’s in the back bay,” Eddie replied as Arthur stripped off the sweatshirt and hat and laid them on Eddie’s desk.  He was wearing a plain t-shirt underneath and he grabbed a nice jacket from the back of a nearby chair and slipped it on, then switched his running shoes for loafers and smoothed his hair.

“Jesse, you’re up!” Eddie yelled over his shoulder, and a few minutes later one of his mechanics walked over and put on the sweatshirt and hat, then walked outside the open garage door for a cigarette break.  To someone who hadn’t studied Arthur in depth it would look like the same person who had been driving the truck.  Eames turned back to Arthur and quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

“Pushing the cloak and dagger a bit far, aren’t you?” he asked.  Arthur just looked at him like he was an idiot and walked further into the garage to his vehicle.  Eames moved towards the passenger door of the black Tahoe parked in the corner, but Arthur waved him off.

“Back seat.  And lay down,” he ordered.

“Now hang on a minute…”

“I said back seat, and lay down, or you can find someone else to help you.”

Eames huffed and glared, but Arthur just met his eyes calmly, waiting, and finally Eames gave in and stretched out on the backseat as best he could.  The windows were tinted, so odds were no one would be able to see in.  He supposed he should just be glad that Arthur hadn’t made him get on the floor, or curl up in the back cargo space.

As Arthur drove, Eames tried to watch out the windows, but he found it a bit disorienting to watch the tops of buildings going by upside-down.  Several minutes later he saw that they had pulled into an underground parking area, and he leaned up enough to see Arthur roll down his window and swipe a security card across a sensor.  He then pressed his thumb against a second pad, and Eames noted that Arthur was careful to wipe off the pad after the scan was complete.

“Okay, we’re clear,” Arthur finally said.  Eames sat up and opened his door as soon as the truck stopped.  He looked around as the door behind them clunked to the ground.  It was a small parking area, separated from the rest of the garage by concrete walls and a large steel door.  All the spots were taken up by high-end luxury vehicles, including a motorcycle.

“Parking in the VIP section, are you?” he asked with a grin.

“Something like that,” Arthur replied as he walked towards an elevator on the far wall.  More card swipes to open the doors, and again once inside.  Arthur said “Penthouse” and Eames laughed when a computerized voice replied “Confirmed” and the elevator began to move.

“Security cards, thumb print and voice recognition?  When you said you had somewhere safe, I didn’t think you meant Fort Knox,” Eames joked, and though Arthur didn’t reply, Eames caught the quirk of his lips as he smiled in response.

When the elevator stopped and the door opened, Eames stepped out into a large open living area – kitchen and dining area, multiple seating areas, television, fire place… even a pool table.  There were windows lining one wall, with large sliding doors leading to a walled in patio area that stretched the length of one side of the room.

“This is your idea of a hideout, Arthur?  No wonder you turned your nose up at some of the places we’ve stayed.”

“This isn’t a hideout, Eames… this is my home.”

Eames knew that his mouth was hanging open when he turned to stare at Arthur, but he didn’t care.

“Your home?  As in…”

“As in this is where I always come back to, a place that no one in our business knows about except Dom… and now you.  Don’t make me regret this decision,” Arthur replied.

Suddenly the whole process up to that point made sense – Arthur being so careful about them being followed, making sure that no one could tie Eames to this place.  He understood the security measures in place, the multi-level checks to get in.  He also understood what it meant that Arthur had let him in, had shown him this.

“On my family’s lives, Arthur, I won’t breathe a word to anyone,” Eames swore, his voice soft and solemn, and Arthur must have believed him because he nodded, and Eames could see some of the tension leave his frame.  He followed him to a hallway that branched off to the left.

“Doors on the left are two bedrooms and a bathroom.  Doors on the right are my bedroom and the library, which is also my office.  The back bedroom is the bigger of the guest rooms, and has the better view.  Use whichever one you want,” he said, and Eames nodded and headed down the hall, but stopped when Arthur spoke again.

“I wasn’t planning to make dinner until later, but if you're hungry now…”

“You cook?” Eames asked.

“Cooking is easier than getting delivery in through the security,” Arthur explained.

“Later is fine, whenever you are ready,” Eames said, “For now, I just want to take a shower.”

“Everything you need should be in the bathroom.”

Eames disappeared through the last door on the left, his bag in hand.  He had a couple changes of clothes, but not enough for an extended stay.  Shopping would have to wait - he was exhausted from the musical flights game he had played, and jet-lagged from his cross-Atlantic trip.

The bedroom and bathroom matched the rest of the space, all clean-lined furniture and stylish colors, art on the walls and hardwood floors with rugs.  After showering he checked out the view from his bedroom.  He was surrounded by city lights, but he could see the river a few blocks away, and further in the distance there were boats on Lake Michigan.

He sat down on the bed, intending to relax for only a moment, but the next thing he knew he woke up to a clock that showed nine at night - he had slept about five hours.  He got up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and went back down the hallway to the living room.  Arthur was sitting in an arm chair, the television on low, his laptop on the coffee table in front of him.  There was an empty plate on the table, and Eames could smell stir-fry.

"There's some food on a plate in the oven for you.  I didn't want to wake you, so I just kept it warm," Arthur said without turning around.

"Thanks."  Eames found the plate and rummaged through the kitchen drawers until he found a fork.  He settled into the arm chair opposite Arthur and began eating.

"Tomorrow morning we'll get you into the security system."

"Is that necessary?" Eames asked.

"If you are going to be here for more than a few days, which is likely, then yes."

"So no one gets in an out of this place without all of that?"

"Depends on which floor you are going to.  The top two floors and the private garage have their own elevator and require card, thumb and voice recognition.  The rest of the building only uses cards, but they are coded differently depending on your floors.  Same with the stairwells."

"It really is like Fort Knox.  Is it all automated?"

"There is always a guard on duty in the lobby.  They are the only ones besides me that have access to the entire building."

"You have access to the other floors?"

"I own the building, so it’s a necessity."  Eames shouldn't be surprised to know that Arthur had invested, but it still seemed odd to think of him doing anything other than dreamshare work.

"Knowing you, there are fail-safes upon fail-safes, too."

"The odds of anyone getting into a floor they aren't supposed to are very slim, and cameras track all movement in the elevators and stairs.  I had to make a concession to the city, of course.  If anything happens that requires emergency response then the guard can override the system to allow access to all floors through the stairwells."

Eames put his empty plate aside and stared across at Arthur, watching as he read through some papers in his lap.  It was several minutes before he finally spoke.

"I suppose we all have lives outside of what the other's know about," he said, and Arthur looked up and grinned, a quick quirk of his lips.

"Of course we do.  And speaking of that, I need information on your family, and a list of any clients you've worked with in the last two years, dreamshare or not," Arthur said as he leaned forward and pushed a pad of paper and pen across the table to Eames.

"The list of clients is easy enough, but you don't need my family information," Eames replied with a frown.

“To be thorough, yes I do.”

“My family has nothing to do with whatever prompted this.”

Arthur sighed and put down his papers, looking at Eames.

"Eames... we don't know who set up the attack.  I know you assume that it was a warning for you, but we have to acknowledge that it might be something else entirely."

"I swear my father is the most well-liked man in England, and the worst thing my mother has ever done is wear the same hat to church more than once," Eames argued.

Arthur said nothing, just stared a moment, then closed his laptop and gathered up all of his papers.  He stood before looking at Eames again.

"Remember, Eames... they went after your family and you called me for help," Arthur said as though that explained everything.  And maybe it did, but Eames was too tired to muddle through it.

"Yes, I did," he responded.  Arthur turned without another word and left down the darkened hallway.

++++++++++

Arthur was stirring his coffee the next morning when Eames walked in and laid two pieces of paper on the counter.

"You're right.  I needed help, and I called you.  I called you because I know you're the best and I trust you," Eames paused and took a breath, then continued, "One piece is the client list.  The other is my family."  Arthur nodded and slipped both pieces of paper into his pocket, then pushed an empty mug across the counter.

"Coffee is in the pot, tea is in the cabinet above that."

Eames smiled and took the cup, fixing coffee because he was too tired to make the tea.  He sat at the bar and drank as Arthur moved around the kitchen fixing breakfast.

"You'll meet Anthony this morning.  He is one of three guards on normal rotation, with a few alternates."

"All people you have thoroughly checked out, I'm sure."

"I would be the least of their worries if they ever double-crossed me," Arthur said.

Eames wanted to ask for an explanation on that, but decided not to dig too deeply.  If Arthur wanted him to know, he would tell him.

They ate in companionable silence and Eames had to admit that Arthur was a decent cook.  When he said as much, Arthur laughed.

"I've been cooking since I was a kid, so I would hope I’d have the hang of it by now," he replied.  Eames lifted one eyebrow in question and Arthur shrugged.

"I was raised by my grandparents, and they were both good in the kitchen, so I learned early," he explained.

"Your grandparents?"

Arthur was quiet a moment before answering, "My parents died in a car accident when I was about two years old."

"I’m sorry, Arthur.  I didn’t mean to bring something like that up," Eames said.  Arthur shrugged again and smiled faintly.

"It was a long time ago, and I barely remember them.  It’s hard to miss something you didn't know," Arthur replied.

Eames nodded and for once didn't know what to say.  Arthur saved him from the discomfort by gathering the plates and putting them in the sink, then said, "Anthony is expecting us, so we might as well get you set up."

They took the elevator to the lobby, where a large man with a military cut was dressed in black suit and seated behind a desk.  There was a door behind him which Eames assumed was the security office.

"Good morning, Mr. Donaldson.  I trust yesterday's errand went well," the guard said, his statement directed at Arthur as he looked at Eames.

"It did.  Anthony, this is Mr. Eames.  I want him setup with the same permissions that I have," Arthur instructed.

Anthony hesitated a moment and then asked, "Do you expect him to need access to the other floors?"

"No, but I've learned never to make assumptions about possible trouble when it comes to him," Arthur explained.  Eames knew they were discussing more than just taking a stroll through the other hallways and felt like he should defend himself, but he saw that Arthur was smiling, so he let it slide.

Anthony stood and shook Eames' hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Eames.  Always nice to see Mr. Donaldson's friends come for a visit."

"Just Eames is fine, please."

"Fair enough.  If you would come with me, Eames, I'll get you in the system."

Eames followed Anthony into the security office and emerged a short while later with a plain white swipe card in his hand.  Anthony returned to his desk while Eames moved to stand by Arthur.

"I'll bring him by during the other shifts to introduce him to Matt and Jackson, but in the mean time make sure they know about him," Arthur said and Anthony nodded.

"Sure thing, Mr. Donaldson."

Arthur turned to Eames, "I know you only brought a small bag, so I assume you need some things for your stay.  I thought this morning we could do your shopping, and I could show you around the neighborhood."

"Sounds like a plan."

Arthur gave him a tour of the surrounding area, pointing out restaurants and shops, pubs and other locations he might want to see.  Eames absorbed all this and noted the layout of the streets and alleys, familiarizing himself with the buildings and landmarks that could help him find his way if he had to move fast.  They finished shopping for Eames and went to the market for additional groceries.

By the time they got back to Arthur's place, it was early afternoon and Eames was worn out again.  He put away his things while Arthur took care of the food, then he collapsed in a chair in the living room and stared out at the blue sky.

"How are you doing on money?" Arthur asked.

"I've used most of the cash I had on me.  There is plenty in my various accounts, but I'm hesitant to touch them."

"You shouldn't.  I’ll take care of everything and you can pay me back when it’s done," Arthur said.  Eames wanted to argue, but he knew that it was the most logical option, so he just nodded his agreement.

“Speaking of money, we didn’t discuss your fee,” Eames pointed out.

“You’re responsible for all the expenses,” Arthur replied.

“Come on, Arthur, I know your time is more valuable than that,” Eames argued.

“You’re right, it is.  You’re still only covering expenses,” Arthur said firmly and Eames could tell by the set of his jaw that there was no use arguing with him.  He knew Arthur wasn’t one to shy away from being owed a favor instead of cash, and Eames would gladly pay up whenever a call came from Arthur for help.

"You should get some more rest.  I'm going to start researching; the faster we get this figured out, the safer your family will be," Arthur said, then motioned to the kitchen, "Help yourself to anything.  I'm going to have a sandwich for lunch, and then I'll be in my office."

Several hours later, Eames had napped and was in the kitchen fixing dinner.  Arthur had only emerged from his office a few times, and only for brief periods.  Once Eames had finished cooking, rosemary chicken and roasted potatoes, he loaded two plates and made his way to Arthur's office.

One wall was lined with windows, two were lined with built in bookcases and the third was dominated by a grand piano and two guitars on stands. There was seating by the windows and a large desk situated in the middle of the room.  Eames sat the plate down on the desk by Arthur and made himself comfortable in a chair in front of it.

Arthur looked at the plate, surprised, and then up at Eames.

"Thanks," he said as he glanced at the clock, "I didn't realize how late it was."

"Well, I have to carry my weight, right?  Besides, I enjoy cooking.  Takes my mind off other things," Eames replied.  Arthur shifted the plate closer and began eating, absentmindedly, with his attention back on whatever he saw on his computer screen.

"How's the research going?" Eames asked after several minutes.

"Good.  I started with your family.  Figured it best to rule them out first," Arthur explained.

"Found any intriguing skeletons?" Eames joked.  Arthur laughed softly and shook his head.

"Your family is a surprisingly open book.  I haven't even had to dig that hard.  Your father's horse breeding business is all above board and your mother is a model member of titled society in England.  I'm still working on your brother and his wife, but so far they look clean, too," he replied.

"So it looks like I was right - this is because of me," Eames added.

"Looks like, yes.  That was already the safe assumption, but we have to be sure," Arthur paused and looked across at Eames, "Do you mind if I ask you something?  Something personal?"

Eames shrugged and motioned for Arthur to continue.

"Your real name is Marcus Williams, so where did Eames come from?"

Eames laughed and shifted in his seat to get comfortable.

"When I was little and first really learning to speak, I had trouble with some of my letters.  I also loved football but could never remember the name of the club that my father watched, or any of the others for that matter, so I always called them 'the teams' but the Ts never came out right, so it was 'the eams'.  My parents started calling me Eames as a nickname, and it stuck.  Only my immediate family uses it, so most people would never connect Eames to Marcus Williams."

"And the title?  Was giving it up your idea?"

"Yeah, it was.  I'm the black sheep as far as society is concerned, though they don’t know the half of it.  My parents know all my jobs aren't on the up and up, but I'm their son and my family is very tight-knit.  Lord knows titled families always have scandal somewhere, but rather than risk getting caught and ruining our name, I abdicated the title to Adam," Eames explained.

"I have a hard time picturing you as Baron Peterleigh," Arthur said with a smirk.  Eames laughed again and nodded.

"I never cared for the sound of it either, so it wasn't hard to let it go.  And you, Mr. Donaldson..."

"Ah, yes.  Mr. Donaldson owns this building, which was inherited from his family.  He also runs a legitimate security consulting business to supplement the income from his various real estate holdings."

"And Mr. Donaldson doesn't have any interesting skeletons in his closet, I suppose?" Eames asked.

"None that anyone will find," Arthur replied with a grin.

“I’m surprised you didn’t already know all about me, pet.  Didn’t you do a background check before we worked together the first time?” Eames asked.

“I verified everything I could find about your dreamshare life, which was enough.  At the time there was no need to delve into your personal information,” Arthur explained.

“The infamous Arthur didn’t scrounge up every possible tidbit about someone?”

“You weren’t a mark, so I didn’t need to know every detail.  I made sure you wouldn’t be a liability to the job and stopped with that.”

“Honor among thieves and all that?” Eames replied.

“I wouldn’t want anyone digging too deeply into me, either.  Call it the Golden Rule of Point Men,” Arthur joked.

They chatted for a while until Arthur was ready to call it a night.  As they parted ways in the hall, it struck Eames that they were behaving almost like…  _ friends _ .

++++++++++

They settled into a routine after that.  Arthur was usually up first and would make coffee and start water boiling for Eames.  The smell of the coffee would bring Eames from his room, rumpled and half awake, and while he was fixing his tea, Arthur would make breakfast.  They would eat and chat and Arthur would set about doing whatever he needed to that day – research, running errands, meetings with clients, whatever came up.  Eames would be left to his own devices for the most part, and he made use of Arthur’s home gym on the floor below them.  He also spent time wandering Chicago, always careful about tails on his way back.

Arthur had always lived alone.  Friends and relatives visited some times, but never stayed too long.  He liked it that way, the seclusion and quiet.  But he found as the first week passed… well… he really liked having Eames around.

He had a wicked sense of humor, was well read and intelligent and he knew all about Arthur’s secret line of work so Arthur never had to be careful about what he said.

It was disconcerting how much Arthur liked Eames being there, to say the least.  Especially when Arthur began to notice other things.

Like the way Eames’ hair needed to be trimmed and it fell across his eyes, giving him an even more rakish appearance than he already had.

The way he smelled when he had just showered, clean and fresh, with the faintest underlying of his natural scent.

How his fingers looked when they were tapping out an indistinct rhythm on the countertop while his tea was steeping.

It was  _ very _ disconcerting.

++++++++++

“Arthur, I need to get out of the house, and I want you to come with me,” Eames announced one evening as Arthur was settling in at his desk to work.  Arthur looked up with a small smile.

“Any particular reason you want me to go?” he asked.

“Yes, because I said so,” Eames replied with a grin.  Arthur looked down at the notes in front of him and considered the request.  He was still waiting for responses on some of the recent feelers he had sent out, so he didn’t really have much to work on, anyway.  He shrugged and stood.

“Sure, why not.  I know a great pub not too far away.  Good food and nice atmosphere.”

“Sounds brilliant,” Eames responded.

A short while later they were leaving the elevator in the parking garage and Eames let out a whistle when Arthur walked over to a Maserati GranTurismo S.

“Arthur, these aren’t available stateside, and there is a waiting list a year long.  How did you get it?” he asked.  Arthur smiled as he opened his door and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Waiting lists don’t mean anything when the owner of the company owes you a favor,” he explained.  Eames looked around the garage as he sat down in the opposite seat.

“So these are all yours then?  I thought maybe you let other tenants park in here.”

“No, these are all mine.  I have particular tastes in cars and I am very careful about them.”

Eames looked at him for a few moments as Arthur started the car and pulled out of the underground parking.

“I’m really beginning to see just how little I knew about you,” Eames muttered, and Arthur didn’t respond.

Arthur parked the car just outside the front window of the pub and Eames laughed when he chose a booth beside that window.

“If you are that worried about it, why did you drive it?” he asked.

“I like the car, and I don’t get to drive it too often.”

They had ordered drinks and food before Eames spoke again.

“I don’t want you to take this as a complaint, darling, but I have to say that I’m surprised at how…  _ normal _ you’ve seemed while I’ve been here.”  Arthur quirked a brow and sipped his bourbon.

“You just assumed that I was a point man all the time?”

Eames had the good grace to look abashed as he nodded.

“You’re fault for making the assumption then.  You’ve only ever been around me when I’m on a job.  That was me working.  This is me not working.”

“But you are working, for me,” Eames countered.

“That’s different.  This is a private job, for someone that I know, and not related to my dreamshare reputation,” Arthur explained.

“So this is the real you, then?”

“As real as you’re going to get,” Arthur agreed.

“The you that is a good cook, has the most eclectic music collection I’ve ever seen, invests in real estate, drives ridiculously expensive sports cars, who loves to sit up at night watching horror movies with the lights off… and yes, don’t think I hadn’t noticed that the last week or so… this is you?”  Arthur met his stare with a serene expression and nodded.  Eames studied him, long enough that Arthur began to feel almost an itching along his skin, and finally smiled.

“I like this you, Arthur.  It’s not at all what I expected, but I like it,” Eames announced.

“Gee, now my life is complete, Mr. Eames,” Arthur replied flippantly as their food arrived.

They ate in relative silence, punctuating the meal with occasional comments about the weather and what Eames had been doing in Chicago.  When the meal was over and they were both sipping their next round of drinks, Arthur met Eames’ eyes across the table again and felt that odd itching under his skin again.  He broke their gaze and coughed lightly.

“So… what is it that you do for legitimate work, Eames?” he asked, fixing his eyes on something other than Eames so that he could calm the sudden rapidness of his heartbeat.

“I’m an artist.  Paint, sculpt, sketch.  It’s part of the reason why society doesn’t approve of me, you know.  The eldest son of a Lord giving up the title to paint didn’t go over well.”

“That’s all it takes to be branded a black sheep?  You English are awfully picky,” Arthur joked.

“There’s also the matter of my demotion while in the military,” Eames pointed out.

“Yes, I saw that when I was researching.  What happened there?”

“You likely know that I was SAS, then went into the SRR when it was formed, the special reconnaissance group?”

“Which explains why you are so good at reading the marks,” Arthur interjected.

“I have a natural talent for it, yes.”

“What did you do in the SAS?  I know they have specialized groups, like most US spec ops.”

“Mountain troop, and my specialty was demolitions,” Eames explained.  Arthur stared at him a moment and then chuckled.

“Well, that certainly explains your level during inception, doesn’t it?” Arthur said.

“Always best to stick with what you know,” Eames agreed with a grin.  They were quiet for another moment before Arthur spoke.

“So what led to the demotion?” he asked.

“I was on assignment, working recon on a possible target.  We had live video feed and all that, so the higher ups were watching what I was seeing.  They saw a teenager that they thought was a suicide bomber.  It was a ridiculous assumption, and I told them so.  Told them I had a better view than them and they were wrong.  They gave the order to take him out, I refused.  Turns out I was right, and because I disobeyed, I didn’t alert the real targets to my position and ended up saving more lives.  They should have court-martialled me for disobeying orders, but because I was right and saved lives, they decided to just demote me instead.  Society didn’t like that, either,” Eames explained.

“And shortly after that you moved to dreamshare,” Arthur said and Eames nodded and emptied the rest of his glass before waving the waiter over for another.

“And you, Arthur?  I know you’re ex-military, I can tell by the way you handle yourself.  So what’s your story?”

“After college I enlisted as an Army Ranger, did a couple of years there and transferred to the Green Berets.  My goal was Delta Force, and I was on the list, but then the dreamshare project started up and I went there instead, which is how I met Dom.  My enlistment was up while I was in the project, and I left the military,” Arthur said.

“And have been living the life of a criminal ever since,” Eames added with a smirk.

“Well, I do have legitimate businesses, too, just like you,” Arthur corrected.  Eames nodded in agreement and they finished their last drink.  They settled up their tabs and drove home with only the radio for noise.  Eames was staring out the window and it was on the tip of Arthur’s tongue to ask what he was thinking about, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

They parted ways inside the condo and Arthur had another drink as he sat on the balcony, staring out at the city and trying to decipher this sudden wave of…  _ something _ that he felt for Eames.

++++++++++

Arthur walked in the door from a trip to the grocery store to find Eames sitting on the couch watching TV, his hair still damp from his after-exercise shower.

“A woman named Nan called and invited us for lunch this Sunday,” Eames informed him with a grin and Arthur froze.

“Did you speak to her?”

“I didn’t intend to answer, but the phone kept ringing and ringing and I thought it might be you, so I picked up.  She seems like a lovely person,” Eames explained.

“She is something, yes.  Nan is my godmother,” Arthur said as he began putting the food away.  Eames stood and sauntered over from the sofa.

“So you’ve been talking to your Nan about me, have you?  You must have, pet, since she knew who I was as soon as I answered the phone,” he said with a smirk.  Arthur gritted his teeth and hoped he didn’t blush.

“She’s been asking me to dinner for the last week or so and I finally had to tell her that a friend was visiting and I couldn’t come.  She doesn’t see that as a deterrent, since I’ve brought friends over before, but I couldn’t explain to her how this is different because of…”  Arthur trailed off and waved a hand vaguely between them.  Eames quirked a brow and mimicked Arthur’s hand wave.

“Sorry, dear, I don’t follow what that means.”

Arthur sighed in frustration.

“I don’t want to explain to her how I know you, so I couldn’t explain to her why this is different.”

“Are you saying we aren’t friends, Arthur?  My heart is breaking at the thought!” Eames exclaimed with a devastated expression and his hand over his heart.  Arthur all but growled at him.

“Fine, we’ll go.  But don’t whine to me when she corners you and starts asking you a million questions about… well, never mind that.  Just don’t whine to me.”

++++++++++

Sunday came sooner than Arthur liked, but there was no getting out of the lunch now.  They were on their way there when Eames turned to him.

“So, I want to make sure I have all of this straight.  Nan is your godmother, and was your grandmother’s best friend from the age they started walking.  She is Italian, as is the rest of the family that will be here today, but you aren’t Italian.”

“Right.  Grandma and Nan grew up next door to each other.”

“And do we have to lie about our lines of work?”

“Well, it’s up to you if you lie about yours.  They know what I do for a living, both the legal and the illegal.”

“I’m still not seeing any reason why you didn’t want me to come over,” Eames commented.

“You’ll see,” Arthur warned as they parked in front of a large multi-story home.

“This is your Nan’s house?”

“This is the family house.  They’re Italian, with large families, and there are multiple generations living in the house,” Arthur explained as they got out of the car.

“Arthur… there are armed men around the house,” Eames pointed out, his tone neutral but Arthur could tell he was on edge by the way he grabbed Arthur’s arm and held him back a moment.

“Did you expect the head of Chicago’s mob to have a home that was unguarded?” Arthur asked nonchalantly, fighting not to smirk as Eames visibly startled.  He leaned in to Arthur’s ear and whispered angrily.

“The mob?  Are you fucking pulling my leg here?”

“That’s why I trust the people that work for me.  They are all related to them one way or another.”

“Your doormen are related to the mafia?”

“Didn’t I mention that?” Arthur asked with faked innocence.  Eames just glared at him in response and Arthur chuckled.

“Relax, Eames – they’re family,” Arthur assured him and started up the walk, grinning to himself that he had finally managed to catch Eames off guard with something.  Eames followed behind him, grumbling under his breath.

Arthur greeted everyone by name as they walked in, introducing Eames as they went.  They finally made their way through the crowd and Eames whispered to him again.

“Nan said ‘little Sunday lunch’.  There must be twenty people in the front room alone!”

“This is a little lunch.  When they get the whole family together they have to rent out a reception hall,” Arthur replied as they approached an older woman holding court from her chair in the kitchen.  She was directing the cooks and fussing at people milling around.  She looked up and spotted Arthur and beamed at him, holding out her arms.

“Arthur, my darling boy!  It’s been too long since you’ve been to see Nan,” she called out and the crowd between them parted to let Arthur and Eames through.

“Now, Nan, you know it’s only been a few weeks since I came for a visit,” Arthur responded with a sheepish grin as he leaned down to hug her tightly.

“Yes, but you haven’t been to lunch in months.  Everyone has been asking about you,” she chided as she patted his cheek.  She turned her gaze to Eames and smiled an entirely different kind of smile, this one mischievous as she mock-whispered to Arthur, “So this is your new friend Eames.  He is a handsome devil, isn’t he?  I can see why you’ve been hiding and keeping him all to yourself.”

“Nan,” Arthur replied in a warning tone as he straightened, a flush of pink creeping across his ears and cheeks.  He was almost afraid to turn and see Eames’ expression at that comment.

“Oh, hush now, Arthur, and introduce us,” she replied.  Arthur risked a sideways glance at Eames as he made the introductions.

“Eames, allow me to introduce my godmother, Elisabetta Nicolosi.  Nan, my friend Eames.”

Arthur bit back a sigh as he watched Eames lean over and take her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Signora Nicolosi, it is an honor.”

“This one is definitely trouble,” she said to Arthur, then chuckled and patted Eames’ cheek as well, “And you call me Nan, bambino, everyone does.”

Eames stood with a smirk and Arthur gritted his teeth and smiled for his Nan’s sake.  They continued making the rounds, Arthur trying to ignore the many raised eyebrows when he would introduce Eames.  If Eames had noticed that people were looking at him oddly, he didn’t let on.  But it wouldn’t be like Eames to not notice things like that, so Arthur was sure it would come up again later.

They gathered around the dinner table, every one talking and laughing, enjoying the presence of family and friends.  Eames was regaling people with tales that Arthur was sure were from dreamshare jobs, but Eames was very careful about how he phrased things.  Everyone seemed quite taken with him and more than once Nan looked over at Arthur and smiled that same mischievous smile.  Arthur shook his head each time, warning her with a glance to leave things alone.

He should have known better, of course.  When dinner was over, Arthur excused himself for a few minutes to talk business with Mickey, Nan’s son and the head of the family.  When he came back, Eames was nowhere to be found.  Arthur searched the house and finally found him, cornered by Nan in one of the sitting rooms, her hand patting his arm as they spoke.  Eames looked up at Arthur and smiled, the expression the same serene poker face Eames had been wearing most of the day, but Arthur could tell by his eyes that Eames was feeling a bit blindsided.

Arthur sighed and walked over, giving Nan a disapproving look.

“Nan, I told you not to do this.  I told you it’s not like that,” he said as he stopped in front of them.

“Why, I don’t know what you mean, Arthur.  Eames and I were just having a simple conversation,” she responded with an innocent smile.

“Nothing is simple with you, Nan, and you know it,” Arthur replied with exasperated fondness, “Eames and I are leaving now.”

He gave her a tight hug and choked back a laugh when she whispered, “You keep this one, Arthur.  He has a good soul.”  She turned and hugged Eames as well, then walked them to the door and stood waving goodbye until they were out of sight down the street.

Eames was silent on his side of the car, staring straight ahead and not speaking until they had pulled into the garage.

“Do you know what she was talking to me about during that ‘simple conversation’ we were having?” Eames asked as they got out of the car and walked to the elevator.

“Knowing Nan, I’m sure I can guess.”

“She pointed out that if we wanted to get married, it’s legal in New York now.  And then she asked me if we were going to adopt kids or use a surrogate mother.”

Arthur let his head fall back and hit the elevator wall with a thump as he squeezed his eyes closed.

“I did try to warn you, Eames.  I made it clear I had a good reason for not wanting to take you over there.”

“I thought it was because of what we do, the secrecy!  I had no idea they would assume we were a couple!”

“Well, it’s not their fault.  I’m not in the habit of bringing anyone over unless I am serious about them, with the exception of Dom, but they knew Mal so they know all about him.”  He lifted his head and opened his eyes to meet Eames’ incredulous expression.

“Arthur, your godmother was just giving me pointers on where to hold a wedding reception and you aren’t even surprised by this?”

“Nan wants me to settle down and be happy.  I’m sure your mother isn’t any better, and that is basically what Nan is to me,” Arthur pointed out.

“You’re missing the point here, darling,” Eames replied as the elevator stopped at their floor.

“And what is that, Eames?” Arthur asked with a tired sigh as they walked into the living room.

“You don’t seem the least bit surprised that she was doing this, and we’re… we’re both…”

“Both what?  Men?  Well, you wouldn’t be the first boy I brought home to meet the family, so no, I can’t say that I’m surprised that she was okay with it.”

It would have been almost comical, the way Eames’ mouth was hanging open, except that Arthur was too on edge from Eames’ proximity the last couple of weeks to really find any of it funny.

“I was under the impression that your tastes ran to the feminine, Arthur,” Eames said after a moment, a deeper intensity to his voice.

“I’ve always been more interested in the person than what is between their legs.  I date who suits me, regardless of gender.”

Eames made a strangled noise in his throat and grabbed Arthur by the arm.

“All this time and you never mentioned it?”

“We’ve never really had a relationship that included discussions of our sexual preferences, Eames, so why would I have brought it up?” Arthur asked and glanced down at Eames’ hand, the warmth of it searing his skin where he gripped his arm.

“I’ve flirted with you more times than I can count and you’ve never let on at all?” Eames asked in a strained voice.

“Eames, you flirt with  _ everyone _ so I hardly thought a few innuendos were reason enough to bare my soul to you,” Arthur pointed out.

“For a point man of your ability, you are awfully clueless,” Eames muttered and Arthur clenched his jaw.

“As long as we’re throwing insults, allow me to point out that had I been a mark, you would have failed miserably in your job!” he retorted angrily and tugged his arm to try to pull it free from Eames’ grasp.

“You just don’t fucking get it,” Eames whispered harshly and before Arthur could respond he was pushed roughly back into the wall and trapped there between it and Eames’ body.

He felt Eames’ hands cup his face, felt lips pressed to his in a firm, demanding kiss and it was several seconds before he realized, through the haze of shock, what was happening.  He groaned softly and wound his arms tight around Eames and parted his lips to allow the kiss to deepen.  He felt a shudder pass through Eames’ frame at his surrender and gasped when a strong thigh wedged between his and slid against his quickly hardening cock.

He grabbed Eames’ belt and used it to pull him closer, reveling in the sensation of Eames’ erection grinding into his own.  Eames broke the kiss with a ragged breath as their hips twitched and moved together almost of their own volition.

“Christ, darling, to think we could have been doing this all along,” he said against Arthur’s skin as he bit his way along his jaw.  Arthur’s hips thrust forward into Eames’ when he trailed his tongue along the shell of Arthur’s ear.  Arthur wanted to make some witty response to that, but he couldn’t think clearly beyond the feel of Eames’ skin under his hands where they were pushed under Eames’ shirt, and the way Eames’ hot breath was blowing across his neck as he licked down to Arthur’s collarbone.

“This is just what I need to take the edge off, pet,” Eames muttered as he moved to unfasten Arthur’s jeans.  Something about that comment caught Arthur’s attention, even through the passion clouding his head, and he froze, grabbing Eames’ wrist to stop him.

Eames looked at him, perplexed, the sound of their panting breaths echoing in the open space.  Arthur waited a moment until he was relatively sure his voice would be steady, then licked his lips and met Eames’ gaze.

“I think this is a monumentally bad idea, Eames, and I’m going to stop us now before it goes any further,” he said softly.

“Now is not the time for jokes, Arthur,” Eames chided as he tried to reach for Arthur’s zipper.  Arthur tightened his grip and pushed against Eames’ arms.

“I’m not joking.  You are under a lot of stress right now, and we’re stuck in close quarters here while I try to figure out who is doing this, and… by all means, if you need to distract yourself from all of this, feel free to do so, but it won’t be with me.”  He stepped away from the wall and away from Eames, ignoring the urge to just drag Eames down the hall to the nearest bed.

He walked towards his room, pausing before he rounded the corner, wanting to say something, but not sure what.  Finally he settled on a simple  _ good night _ and went into his room and closed the door behind him.  He heard the elevator ding and the mechanical doors slide closed soon after.  He lay in bed for longer than he cared to admit, listening for any little sound in the condo before he finally fell into a restless sleep.

++++++++++

When Eames walked into the condo mid-morning the next day he saw Arthur sitting out on the balcony.  He put water on to boil and went through the open glass doors and stood looking out over the skyline until Arthur spoke.

“I wasn’t sure when you would be in, so I only made one omelet.  I can make another if you’re hungry.”

“I’ll fix myself something in a bit,” Eames replied as Arthur turned to look at him.  Arthur’s eyes widened in shock and he stood quickly.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Arthur asked.  Eames pressed finger tips to his tender cheek bone and winced.

“Does it look as bad as it feels?” he asked and almost laughed when Arthur nodded, his expression earnest in its agreement.  The kettle started whistling so he went back inside, with Arthur following behind him.

“I went out and had a few dozen more drinks and got into a fight with some bloke at the bar.  I promise, he looks worse than me,” Eames explained.

“You managed to not get arrested?” Arthur asked.

“I was gone long before Chicago’s finest showed up, and I found my way back here.”

“You came back here?  But you just came from downstairs,” Arthur pointed out.  Eames looked a bit sheepish as he replied.

“I stopped off downstairs, for what reason I can’t remember, and passed out on the exercise mats.  At the time it seemed like a perfectly sound idea.”

Eames glanced up to see Arthur roll his eyes and shake his head.

“You should have just gone out and picked up some drunk girl like a normal guy would,” Arthur said.

“I didn’t want some drunk girl from a bar,” Eames replied with a pointed look.  The phone rang before either of them could say anything else.  Arthur answered it and spoke quietly for a few minutes, then disconnected the call and smiled broadly at Eames.

“First good lead.  Some friends of mine tracked down the guy that pulled the trigger.  He’s likely a hired gun, but it gets us going in the right direction.”

“Where is he?”

“Prague.  My source says he should be there for a while,” Arthur answered.

“So when do we leave?” Eames asked.

“I’ll book a flight for tomorrow morning.  You look like you need more rest,” Arthur replied as he turned and rummaged around in a cabinet and the refrigerator and produced a bottle of aspirin, a bright red drink bottle and a frozen blue eye mask.  He sat them all on the counter in front of Eames and explained, “The aspirin and Gatorade will help with the hangover.  A shower would make you feel better, and you should get some more sleep.  The mask will help with the swelling on that eye.”

“Yes, mum,” Eames muttered.

“I’m going to take care of the travel arrangements.  If I don’t see you before dinner, I’ll come wake you,” Arthur said as he disappeared down the hallway.

Eames took the pills and drank a large glass of the sports drink, then fixed a quick breakfast of eggs and toast.  He felt marginally more human after that, though he still needed a shower.  The shower relaxed him and he realized just how tired he still was, so he took Arthur’s advice and lay down on the bed, the cold mask in place and soothing the ache in his cheek as he dozed.

It was late afternoon before he woke, and the face mask had gone warm.  He took it off and brushed his fingers over his eye in a tentative touch.  It still hurt, but it was better than it had been that morning.  He stood and stretched, grunting slightly as his joints popped.  The place was quiet except for the sound of the television in the living room.  He wandered down the hall, expecting to find Arthur sitting there watching a movie.

But Arthur was asleep, slumped sideways with his head on the arm of the couch.  He had curled himself into a ball on one end of the couch, and Eames could see goose pimples raised along his bare arms.  The room was a bit chilly, thanks to the April rain that had blown into town earlier in the day.  Eames grabbed a blanket that was draped over a nearby chair and fluffed it out and over Arthur’s frame.

Without thinking, he reached down and smoothed an errant lock of hair back behind Arthur’s ear.  Arthur’s arm shot out from under the blanket and he grabbed Eames’ wrist in a tight grip as he opened his eyes.  Eames met his bleary expression and smiled.

“Just me, pet.  You looked cold,” Eames explained and Arthur let go of his wrist with an apologetic grin.

“Sorry, still not really used to there being anyone else around,” Arthur said.

“Apparently I’m not the only one who was still tired,” Eames noted.  Arthur sat up and shrugged.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.  Too much on my mind,” he admitted quietly.  Eames drew a deep breath and moved to sit down next to Arthur on the couch.

“Look, Arthur, about last night…”

The phone rang again and Eames muttered a string of curses under his breath at the horrible timing.  Arthur answered it, listened for a moment, then stood and made his way down the hall to his office, closing the door behind him.

Eames sighed and leaned back against the couch.  He really wanted to talk to Arthur about what had happened, get everything out in the open, but either fate had a sense of humor and was toying with him, or Arthur was doing his damnedest to avoid the conversation.

It was almost an hour before Arthur emerged from the back.  He went straight to the kitchen, looking anywhere but Eames as he began taking out things to make dinner.

“I’m going to fix something to eat, and then we should get packed.  We leave early in the morning,” he said as he picked up a remote and turned on his music player, the volume set loud enough to make conversation a bit difficult, but not impossible.  Eames knew that Arthur was definitely avoiding talking about it, so he left it alone… for now.

Later, after dinner was eaten and the kitchen cleaned, and after Eames had finished packing, he tried to go back to sleep.  After an hour of trying to will himself to dreamland, he gave up and wandered to the living room to investigate the muffled noises he could hear.

He found Arthur shooting pool, soothing music on low, the room dark except for the hanging light above the table.  He poured himself a drink and leaned against the back of a chair to watch as Arthur moved, sinking shot after shot.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Arthur asked and Eames shook his head.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“You do this often?” Eames asked and motioned towards the table.

“It clears my head, helps me think,” Arthur explained as he sank the last ball and began racking them again.

“Really?  I would think calculating the shots would do the opposite.”

“Not for me.  Setting up the shots is easy, comes from training in the military, I think,” Arthur shrugged as he picked up his cue again, “So it leaves my mind open for other things.”

Eames watched as he broke and then started moving around the table again.  His gaze was drawn to the way Arthur’s bare forearms looked in the light, the muscles flexing as he lined up the cue, shadows flowing across his skin as his angle to the lamp changed.  Eames glanced at Arthur’s face and was caught by the determined expression as he tried to set up a particular ball.

And just like that, Eames decided that he really had no intention of letting Arthur pretend their kiss hadn’t happened.

Eames moved before he really thought about what he was doing, walking over to stand behind Arthur, leaning forward over him and sighting down the cue stick.  He felt Arthur tense against him, could feel the heat coming from Arthur’s skin and the muscles twitch in his back as Eames crowded against him.  He slid his hands along Arthur’s arms and adjusted his alignment slightly and tilted his head to whisper to Arthur.

“You should put a little English on it, darling, if you really want to sink it,” he all but purred against the shell of his ear and delighted when he felt a shiver pass through Arthur’s frame.  He could see Arthur’s throat move as he swallowed, heard the slight gasp to his breath when he opened his mouth to respond and turned his head towards Eames.  Arthur’s gaze flicked to Eames’ lips as they tilted into a smirk and they both froze, their breath mingling in the tiny gap between them.  After what felt like an eternity, Arthur nodded and looked away, letting Eames step back the minimum distance so he could take the shot, as Eames suggested.

The ball dropped into a corner pocket and Arthur straightened, turned slowly to face Eames.  Eames wasted no time in crowding forward, forcing Arthur to lean back against the table.

The kiss was demanding as Eames poured every ounce of his hunger for Arthur into it.  He heard the sound of something hitting the floor, apparently the cue stick because Arthur slid both hands around Eames’ waist and pulled him closer.

Eames licked his way into Arthur’s mouth, swallowing the sigh that followed, from which of them he wasn’t sure.  He continued to kiss and nip until Arthur’s hands were grasping frantically at Eames’ shirt, and then Eames steeled his resolve and stepped back, breaking the contact.

Arthur stared at him, his eyes glazed and uncomprehending.  Eames couldn’t resist the urge to lean in brush his lips one more time.  He quirked his mouth in a cocky grin and took another step back from Arthur.

“Well, I think I can sleep now after all.  Night, pet,” he said nonchalantly and headed down the hall without looking back at Arthur.  He closed the bedroom door behind him and laughed softly when he heard something slam against the pool table.

++++++++++

They were up before dawn the next morning to meet their cab outside the lobby.  The ride to the airport was quiet, both of them staring out their respective windows as they drove through town.

“I’ve already made arrangements for accommodations and some… party favors once we get to Prague,” Arthur said once they were checked in and were standing in line to get through security.

“Wonderful.  I do so love party favors,” Eames said with a wicked grin.

They didn’t speak again until they were settled in their seats.  Several times Arthur had looked like he wanted to say something, but had changed his mind each time.

“Splurging to travel in style?” Eames asked as he motioned to the first class cabin they were seated in.

“Last minute booking, and I needed to make sure we sat together,” Arthur explained.

“Ah, and here I just thought you were trying to win me over with extravagant gifts,” Eames teased and was pleased to note that Arthur’s ears turned pink.

“I’m going back to sleep, Eames.  Do me a favor and don’t seduce the flight attendants or blow up the plane or anything like that, okay?” Arthur replied, irritation clear in his voice as he put on a set of headphones and leaned his seat back, his head turned away from Eames.

Eames might have been offended by the comment, except that he knew why Arthur was irritated, and Eames was looking forward to exploiting the newfound weakness again as soon as he was able.  He leaned back in his own seat and studied Arthur’s profile.  He done it many times over the years of them working together and had never bothered to hide the fact that he found Arthur attractive.  There was something nice about being able to savor the view without wondering when Arthur would call him on it, though.

Eventually he drifted to sleep as well, and woke up a few hours into the flight to find that Arthur had turned and slid sideways so that his head was resting on Eames’ shoulder.  Eames couldn’t help but smile, and he worked his arm carefully behind Arthur until it rested around his shoulders and he was pulled closer.  He snuggled into Eames’ side instinctively and let out a little sigh as Eames began threading his fingers through Arthur’s hair.  

Arthur's hand was resting against Eames' ribs and he stared at the fingers, deceptive in their benign appearance, because Eames knew what Arthur could do with those hands.  

And he knew what he imagined Arthur doing with those hands.  

This lasted for several minutes until Eames recognized that Arthur’s breathing had changed and he had gone tense against Eames.  He continued toying with Arthur’s hair, pretending he didn’t know Arthur was awake, wondering how long it would be until Arthur gave up pretending he was still asleep.

“Stop, Eames,” Arthur ordered, but his voice lacked some of its usual anger.  Eames obliged and Arthur sat up, being careful to keep his face turned away.

“Not to worry, pet, I know everyone finds me irresistible.  I’ve learned to live with it,” Eames quipped with a smirk and fought not to drag Arthur in for another kiss when he blushed  _ again _ .

“What I do in my sleep is out of my control,” Arthur pointed out.

“Don’t try to pull that one on me, Arthur, you know better.  It was a manifestation of your subconscious desires.”

“It wasn’t a manifestation of anything and you’re going to shut up about it now,” Arthur said in a low, forceful voice and Eames felt a wave of desire roll through him at the sound.  He leaned across the space between them and pressed himself as close to Arthur as he could.

“I do so love it when you get all stern and angry, darling.  It’s the most delicious turn on to hear that tone in your voice,” Eames whispered against Arthur’s ear.

Arthur's breath caught, an imperceptible sound that many people would have missed, but Eames recognized.  Eames felt Arthur's fingers twitch under his own where he had one hand resting on Arthur's leg.  He knew he should back off, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, so he did the next logical thing and pushed further.

"The first class bathrooms on these things are quite roomy for a plane.  We could make good use of that, you know," Eames suggested and let his fingers trail up the inseam of Arthur's slacks.  He clenched his jaw in pain when Arthur grabbed his fingers in a vice-like grip and pulled his hand away.

"Not in this lifetime, Eames," Arthur hissed and shoved at his shoulder.  Eames moved away, unwilling, but not resisting.  He leaned back in his seat and smiled.

"You'll come around, Arthur," he said with complete confidence.  Arthur sighed and clenched his hands into fists once, twice, like he was controlling the urge to punch something, then finally turned to Eames.

"Since we're both awake, why don't we discuss our plan for Prague," he said and pulled out his laptop.  It was Eames' turn to sigh then, but he was willing to concede that he had gone far enough this time.

"Yes, yes... tell me all about your grand scheme," he agreed and motioned for the attendant to bring him a drink.  Arthur began explaining what he had learned about the man they were after.

His name was Jonathan Dander and he was an Australian ex-pat who was living in Europe and working as a hired gun.  Eames took the grainy, black and white photo from Arthur and studied it until he had memorized the face.

"He lives in a house in town, keeps to himself for the most part.  He has his groceries delivered every Friday and goes to the same restaurant for dinner with friends every Sunday when he is in town," Arthur told him.

"Sounds like our best chance to grab him will be the delivery, since no one will miss him until Sunday," Eames said and Arthur nodded.

"That was my thought, too.  It will be a quick turn-around.  Arrive Thursday night, get some sleep, up Friday to get our supplies, deal with him Friday afternoon and back on a plane for home Saturday morning.  I..." Arthur paused and looked at Eames, studied him for a moment as he hesitated, then said, "I'm running lead on this one, Eames."

"Not bloody likely.  It was my family he shot at, Arthur," Eames argued.

"I know, which is why I'm in charge here.  I shouldn't have even let you come."

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm sitting this one out."  Eames was getting louder as he got angrier and glared at Arthur when he clapped a hand over Eames mouth.

"That is exactly why you aren't lead on this on.  This needs to be done clean and quick, and it’s too personal for you," Arthur whispered, his voice harsh with reprimand.  Eames thought a moment and had to acknowledge that he was right.  He nodded and Arthur took his hand away.

"So we do this my way," Arthur said and Eames nodded again.

They continued talking about the job for a while, exhaustively covering various scenarios so they were prepared for anything.  The first class cabin was relatively empty, so they were able to discuss the plan in peace.  Eventually Arthur went back to his laptop, double checking his facts to make sure nothing important was missed, and Eames found himself watching the in-flight movie, some ridiculous romantic comedy that could never happen in real life.

He was surprised when Arthur shook him awake some time later.

“We’re at our layover stop.  We have to switch planes,” Arthur explained.  Eames stretched and rubbed his eyes, then gathered his things and worked his way off the plane.

They had a little more than an hour for their layover, so they ate dinner at a restaurant in the terminal while they waited for their next flight.  The second leg of the trip was relatively short compared to the ocean crossing, and it was only a couple of hours before they were getting a taxi outside the airport in Prague.

The hotel was gorgeous and typical of Arthur’s choices.  They had adjoining rooms with a joint terrace and a lovely view of the city.  Not that either of them appreciated it that night, as they both passed out as soon as they got settled in.

++++++++++

Arthur woke to a scratching sound at the door between their rooms.  He forced his eyes open and was reaching for his gun when the door swung open to reveal Eames on the other side, grinning triumphantly.

“That door was locked,” Arthur grumbled.

“I know, which is why I had to pick the lock.”

“Did it occur to you that I left it locked for a reason?” Arthur pointed out and Eames just shrugged, still grinning.

“What’s the point of adjoining rooms if you lock the door, love?”

Arthur muttered several curses and buried his head in the pillow again.  He felt the bed dip as Eames sat down beside him, and jumped when he felt fingers trail along his bare shoulders.  He rolled over and swatted Eames’ hands.  Eames just kept grinning, undisturbed by Arthur’s rejection.

“I went for a lovely walk this morning and scoped out our friend’s place.  Should be fairly easy to get in the back door while he has the alarm disabled for the grocery delivery,” Eames told him.

“Good.  Shouldn’t be any trouble getting in behind him, hitting him with the tranq gun and bagging him.  Did you confirm that there is a door between the apartment and the garage?” Arthur asked.

“That there is, which means we can get him into the car without anyone seeing us,” Eames confirmed.

“About that… you aren’t going in the house,” Arthur said.

“Why the fuck not?”

“I can manage him on my own, and the less we are in the house the less chance of leaving evidence behind,” Arthur explained.  Eames started to shake his head and argue, but Arthur held up a hand to stop him.

“You’ll make sure I get in and get him drugged, then you go pick up the other car and you’ll meet me at the warehouse,” Arthur said, and his tone made it clear it was an order.

“Fine, whatever.  As long as I get my hands on him later,” Eames conceded.

“After breakfast we need to meet with my seller, get the party favors I promised you,” Arthur said as he sat up in the bed.  He ignored Eames’ pointed look as he watched the covers drop down around Arthur’s waist.

“Do I get to feed you breakfast in bed?” Eames asked, and despite his best intentions, Arthur couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through him at the timbre of Eames’ voice, the way it rasped across a lower octave than normal.

“No.  Now get out,” Arthur ordered and was pleased that his voice sounded normal.  Eames finally pulled his gaze away and flashed another grin.

“Doesn’t hurt to try, Arthur,” Eames joked as he stood and left the room.

Breakfast and their supply buy were uneventful.  They met the supplier at a local market that was busy with people.  They had borrowed a car from their hotel, a convenience they kept on hand for their guests, and Arthur took a few minutes at the market to disable the GPS tracker that was installed on the vehicle.

Before long it was mid-afternoon and they were standing in the shadows in Dander’s small backyard area, dressed in black and wearing masks, just in case.  It was an overcast day, which helped them to blend in underneath the large tree that covered most of the patio.  They had placed a small camera to watch the front door, and Arthur had the monitor in his hand.  Eames was ready to pick the lock on the back door as soon as they saw Dander open the front.

“Delivery man is here, should be just a minute now,” Arthur warned him and Eames nodded.  The moment the front door cracked open Arthur signaled Eames.  In seconds the door was open and Arthur darted inside silently.  As soon as the front door closed, Arthur shot Dander with the tranquilizer dart and dashed forward to catch him before he hit the floor.

As soon as Dander was out, Arthur went to the back door.  He motioned an “Okay” to Eames and closed and locked the door, knowing that Eames would remove his mask and make his way down the alley to where the borrowed car was parked.  He was silent as he tied Dander’s hands and feet and slipping a dark bag over his head.  Arthur made sure all the doors were locked and carried the unconscious man to his own car and tucked him into the trunk.  He removed his mask and pulled Dander’s car out of the garage.

Arthur drove to an old warehouse by the river, and he unloaded their passenger and tied him to a chair.  Eames started to walk in, but Arthur met him at the door and stopped him.

“No.  I want you to take care of his car.  There are a few things in our trunk that should help destroy any possible evidence.  Just don’t torch the whole thing – we don’t want anyone reporting smoke,” Arthur said as he turned Eames back to the door.

“Seriously, Arthur?  What the hell?” Eames started to argue but Arthur shoved him out the door.

“I am not going to take a chances that he might recognize you,” Arthur said.

“No.  No fucking way,” Eames said as he tried to push past Arthur.

“You listen to me, or I leave now and let you finish this mess on your own, got it?” Arthur threatened and Eames just stared at him.  Finally, Arthur watched him clench his jaw and nod, once, before turning and striding angrily to the car.  He would pull it into the next building over where it wouldn’t be visible.

Once he was gone, Arthur returned to their prisoner and woke him up with another shot, waiting a few minutes until he was fully aware.

“Hello, Mr. Dander,” Arthur greeted him amiably, noting that the other man stiffened at the sound of his name, “Oh yes, I know your name, know your colleagues, know all about you.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” Dander said, his tone challenging.  Arthur made a tsking sound and moved closer to Dander, grabbing one shoulder in a tight grip, his fingers digging into tender muscles and making their prisoner squirm with the effort to hide the pain.

“You will behave, Jonathan, or I’ll start removing body parts until you learn respect, got it?” Arthur said calmly, followed by a hard slap to the back of Dander’s head.

“What do you want to know?” Dander asked and Arthur was a bit surprised that he had given in so easily.

“You were in London a few weeks ago on a job, took shots at a family.  Who hired you for that job?” Arthur asked.

“I can’t tell you that!  He’ll kill me!” Dander argued.  Arthur pressed his gun to Dander’s temple.

“You don’t tell me and I’ll kill you.  If you cooperate and give me the information we need, then at least you have the advantage of disappearing before he knows you betrayed him,” Arthur prompted.  Dander was silent for a minute, and Arthur was starting to get impatient – he needed to finish this before Eames came back.

“If I cooperate, you’ll let me go?” Dander finally asked.

“Yes,” Arthur assured him.

“All right.  Guy that hired me was this Greek guy, name of Damian Thanos, owns a company called Minos Investments.  Some real estate bigwig.  Lives in Crete,” Dander admitted.

“Thank you, Mr. Dander, you’ve been very helpful,” Arthur said and patted the other man on the head.

“So you’ll let me go now, right?” Dander asked, the leading edge of panic evident in his voice.

“That is what I said, wasn’t it,” Arthur seemed to agree.  He heard a slight noise behind him and saw that Eames had returned and was standing back in the shadows.  Arthur walked quickly over to his side.

“The other car done?” he asked and Eames nodded.

“They won’t find anything of use in it.  But Arthur, there is no  _ fucking _ way that I am letting that man live,” Eames whispered angrily and started to reach for his gun.  Arthur grabbed his hand and stopped him with a shake of his head.

“I told you, I’m lead on this, so back off,” Arthur ordered, giving Eames’ wrist a tight squeeze to emphasize his point.  Eames started to argue again, but Arthur gave him a hard push towards the door.  Dander must have heard the scuffling and muted voices, because he was trembling anxiously in his chair.

“Come on, man, I told you everything I know.  You said you would let me go, so do it already,” Dander pleaded.  Arthur walked over behind Dander and lifted his gun.

“I lied,” Arthur said and pulled the trigger.  The shot was a through and through so Arthur used his pocket knife to dig the deformed bullet out of the time-softened brick in the wall across from the body.

He left the building and found Eames standing there smoking a cigarette.  He looked angry, but Arthur wasn’t concerned.  He reached over and pulled Eames gun from the back of his belt and threw all three weapons and the bullet as far out into the wide river as he could before getting in the hotel car with Eames.

“They’ll likely find him in about a week, when the scheduled demolition crew arrives.  Or what’s left of him, anyway.  They have a problem with wild dogs around here,” Arthur commented as they left the industrial area and pulled back into more crowded neighborhoods.

“You should have let me kill him, Arthur,” Eames said softly, and Arthur could tell by the clenching of his fists that he was angry.

“That wasn’t the plan.”

“Fuck your plan!” Eames shouted and tried to take a swing at him in the confines of the car.  Arthur blocked the punch easy enough.

“I’m doing what you hired me to do, Eames, so back the fuck off and let me do my job!”

“Fuck your job, and fuck you.”  Arthur laughed and shook his head.

“Then by all means, finish without me.  Of course, I’ll still expect payment in full either way,” he said, his tone laden with sarcasm.  Eames glared at him, but didn’t respond because they had pulled up to the hotel valet station.  Arthur checked in at the front desk while Eames went upstairs ahead of him.

++++++++++

Arthur walked into his hotel room without noticing that Eames was behind the door.  As soon as the door clicked shut, Eames pounced on Arthur with a shove to his back, sending him stumbling towards the other room.  Arthur dropped into a defensive position and turned, but stood with a sigh when he realized who it was.

“Again, that door was locked for a reason,” Arthur muttered and turned away.  Eames saw red for a moment, angry that Arthur actually didn’t consider him threat enough to keep him in sight.  He charged, but Arthur turned and met him partway, and Eames found himself with his back to the wall as Arthur pinned him in place.

“Get a fucking grip on yourself, Eames.  You’re acting like a god damned five year old,” Arthur said as he pushed his weight forward.  Eames was heavier than Arthur, but Arthur was stronger than his slenderness let on.

“Why didn’t you let me shoot him, you fucker?” Eames grumbled as he struggled against Arthur’s grip.

“We had to be careful how we handled this one, because we got up close and personal.  Too many chances for trace evidence.  That’s why you never touched him, or set foot in his house.  That’s why I shot him, with the gun I had, because if by some miracle any of this gets traced back to us, it will all point to me,” Arthur explained angrily and let Eames go.  He took a step back and smoothed a hand over his hair.  It took Eames a moment to sort through the meaning in that, and his eyes widened when he realized what Arthur was telling him.

“You wanker.  I don’t know what pisses me off more, the fact that you didn’t let me shoot him, or the fact that you put yourself in the line of fire without talking to me about it first,” he said after a long silence.

“My job, my rules, my decision,” Arthur said and Eames’ gaze narrowed.

“Not a good enough reason,” he spit out and grabbed Arthur, spinning to press him to the wall this time before he continued, “You bloody well should have consulted me before you made yourself the sacrificial lamb.”  Arthur actually had the nerve to laugh at that comment.

“It’s not like this is the first time, Eames.”

“It’s the first time you did it for me,” Eames countered.

“Don’t read too much into it.  I did it for my employer, nothing more,” Arthur argued, but Eames could see the blush that colored Arthur’s cheeks and knew what he wasn’t saying.

“You keep telling yourself that if it helps, pet,” he whispered and then his lips were on Arthur’s, who didn’t bother to fight him this time and Eames rewarded him with a happy sigh when he gave in immediately and engaged in the kiss.

There was little finesse in their movements, fueled instead by buried desire and the frustration of the past weeks.  Eames dimly recognized the popping sounds of buttons as he yanked Arthur’s shirt open and he knew that he would get hell for that later on.

Arthur made short work of Eames’ shirt buttons and pulled it free of his trousers.  He broke the contact of their lips and Eames watched him as he looked down at the bared expanse of skin available to him.  Eames held his breath as Arthur ran his hands over Eames’ chest, scratching lightly with his nails as he traced the dark lines of the tattoos etched there.  He could only stand a few moments of the torture before he shed his shirt completely and then pushed Arthur’s off his shoulders and down his arms.

They reached for each other’s belts at the same moment, otherwise graceful hands fumbling in their haste.  Eames had Arthur’s belt off and fly open first and dropped to his knees to mouth at Arthur’s erection through the thin fabric of his underwear.

Eames smiled to himself when he heard Arthur drop his head back against the wall and he looked up through his lashes to admire the long line of Arthur’s neck and its graceful curve up from his bare chest.  He could see Arthur’s fingers digging into the soft plaster of the wall, and when Arthur’s hips twitched forward towards the warmth of Eames’ mouth, he took the hint and pushed Arthur’s clothing down around his ankles.

At the first touch of Eames’ tongue on his cock, Arthur let out a strangled moan and clenched his hands into fists.  Eames opened his mouth wide and let Arthur’s cock slide over his tongue, a happy moan rumbling through his chest.

He mouthed and licked at Arthur’s skin for a few minutes, his eyes on Arthur the whole time, observing and loving the way Arthur’s skin was turning pink, the way he was fighting the urge to grab Eames by clenching his hands against the wall.  Eames paused with Arthur’s cock half in his mouth and reached up, took Arthur’s hands and placed them against his hair, and Arthur tilted his head to look down.  Eames felt Arthur’s hands sliding through his hair as he stared, meeting Eames’ gaze in wonder.

“You weren’t kidding.  You’re always the aggressor, with your flirting and making the first move, but that isn’t really what you want at all, is it?” Arthur whispered and Eames felt the fingers in his hair tighten and pull a little.  His eyes fluttered closed and he groaned around Arthur’s cock and nodded, arousal staining his skin red as he gripped Arthur’s hips hard enough to leave half moons behind from his fingernails.

He felt Arthur’s grip in his hair tighten even more and Arthur thrust his hips forward.  Eames opened his eyes and tilted his head to look up, smirking as best he could with a mouthful of cock as a way to encourage Arthur to continue.

Eames heard Arthur curse, loudly, and he had just enough time to change the angle of his head to avoid choking before Arthur began moving again, thrusting in and out, fucking Eames’ mouth as his fingers clenched and pulled at Eames’ hair.  There was a steady stream of mewling sounds and chest-deep moans coming from Eames and he didn’t care how it made him sound.  He didn’t want this to end, wanted Arthur to leave marks everywhere he could reach, wanted Arthur’s fingerprints bruised into his scalp like a brand and wanted the taste of his cock on his tongue forever.

“Fuck, Eames, fuck  _ fuck  _ fuck,  _ Eames _ …”

Arthur’s voice was a steady litany of curses and Eames’ name, rolling like a demented prayer from his lips in a constant stream of sound that went straight to Eames’ already hard cock.

The changing pitch of Arthur’s voice and the further tightening of his hands to hold Eames locked in place were the only warning Eames got before Arthur came with a harsh cry.  Eames felt the warmth of Arthur’s come down the back of his throat and moaned, fighting Arthur’s grip to suck him down as far as he could, and he only relented when Arthur pushed him away.

Eames caught him as he crumpled to the floor against the wall, his breathing ragged as it ghosted over Eames’ super-sensitive skin.  Eames fumbled with his own buttons, desperate to get a hand around his cock.

“No,” Arthur ordered and shoved Eames’ hand away.  He pushed Eames’ over backward, his legs bent at an awkward angle, but Eames didn’t care because Arthur was leaning over him, his weight braced on one hand while the other shoved his clothes aside and grabbed his erection in a tight grip and jerked it roughly once, twice.  Eames arched off the floor with a hoarse cry and  _ Christ _ he wasn’t going to last  _ at all _ at this rate.

Arthur made no attempt to be gentle and Eames was panting with the effort to not explode at the first contact.  He thought he was doing an admirable job of holding back, but then Arthur leaned over and bit down hard on Eames’ chin before trailing bites down Eames’ neck.  Despite his efforts, Eames’ couldn’t hold back when he felt Arthur suck  _ hard _ against the skin below his collarbone and he came all over them both with a loud shout of Arthur’s name.

He lay there panting for several minutes with Arthur collapsed on top of him.  Finally he pushed Arthur off to the side so that he could turn and straighten his legs.  They lay there together on the floor, eyes closed and breathing loud in the otherwise silent room.  Finally Arthur sat up, and Eames opened his eyes to look at him.  The silence stretched between them until Eames couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m going to shower and then order room service.  Interested in anything to eat?” he asked with feigned nonchalance.  A look of consternation crossed Arthur’s face and Eames stood quickly and moved towards the joint door without bothering to gather his clothes.

“I’ll order the food when I get back, pet, just circle what you want on the menu,” he called over his shoulder and closed the door behind him as he hastily retreated to his bathroom.

He leaned against the door and sighed, wincing as he ran a hand through his hair and noted the tenderness of his scalp.  He stepped forward to look more closely at himself in the mirror, raising his hand to press his fingertips against his red, swollen lips.  His throat tingled from Arthur’s cock hitting it repeatedly and he smirked as he remembered the almost reverent tone in Arthur’s voice when he had realized just what Eames wanted.

For now Eames would let Arthur off the hook, but he’d had a taste and he was more determined than ever to get what he wanted.

++++++++++

Their flight home was mostly silent.  Eames pretended to be engrossed in whatever movie was on or spent a good portion of the flight sleeping, and Arthur was glad for the distance.  He was still puzzling out Eames’ about-face in attitude the night before.  Self-preservation, maybe, or maybe the whole thing really hadn’t meant that much to him.  He consoled himself with the thought that the job should be over soon and then his life would be his own again.

They arrived in Chicago midday, but all the traveling of the three days caught up with them and they parted ways to their rooms and went right to sleep.

Arthur slept through the night and was awake first the next morning.  It was early, so he made coffee and took a mug out onto the patio to watch the sky lighten as the sun came up.  He loved sitting there with the windows open, high enough up that he barely heard the city noise, and he could see the river and lake clearly from this side of the building.

He was sitting there watching the boats when he heard Eames shuffling around in the kitchen.  He wandered out with a steaming mug in his hand and dropped into a chair beside Arthur.

“So what did you find out from our friend?” Eames asked.  Arthur relayed the information he had learned and Eames was nodding before he had even finished.

“Right, I remember him.  Real estate guy with a hankering to get in on the construction boom in Dubai.  Kept getting underbid, though, and losing work.  Wanted me to break into the city office and steal copies of the bids and permits so he could figure out a way to cheat the system,” he explained.

“All real life work, then?” Arthur clarified.

“Yeah, no dreams.  I warned him that I couldn’t make my usual guarantees about success.  City planners move stuff around too much, take things to job sites and all that.  Turned out I was right, because none of the paperwork was in the office.”

“Think it was just moved?”

“That or someone else had the same idea as him and they beat me to the punch,” Eames added.

“I’m assuming he wasn’t happy with the outcome,” Arthur mused.

“He wasn’t pleased, but he paid me and we went our separate ways,” Eames said.  Arthur sipped his coffee for a few minutes, deep in thought.

“What do you want to do about this, Eames?” he finally asked, his voice quiet and his gaze calm as he watched Eames consider his options.

“No one puts my family in danger, Arthur,” he said in a fierce tone and Arthur nodded.

“We still need to keep you clean of all this, so it’s going to be a long range job.  You have a preference for the weapon?” he asked.

“Considering what will likely be an urban setting, something suppressed would be good.  I toyed around with an XM2010 sniper rifle a few months back and liked the feel of it, but I don’t know how easy it will be to get, considering the limited numbers made,” Eames said.

“Don’t worry about that.  I know who can get it for us,” he assured Eames.

“Somehow I’m not surprised by that, darling.”

++++++++++

Three days later Arthur was ready.  He had dug up every possible bit of information on Damian Thanos and had found that Eames was only the latest in a long list of targets.  As far as Arthur was concerned, that was good, because if anyone actually took the time to investigate the man’s death, there would be a suspect list long enough to keep them busy for years.

Eames had kept his distance since they got back from Prague.  Well, as much as he ever kept his distance anyway, Arthur had to admit.  But that was something he could handle.  Normal level flirting from Eames was something he was familiar with.

He knocked on Eames’ door to see if he wanted to discuss Arthur’s idea for handling the job and heard Eames call out from the other side that it was unlocked.  He pushed the door open and felt his mouth go dry when he saw Eames standing there with nothing on but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Water was dripping from Eames hair to his shoulders and then slipping down over his skin. Arthur didn’t know how long he had stood there in the doorway, devouring the sight of Eames half-naked, but when he finally looked up, Eames was watching him with a knowing smirk, his fingers toying with the towel were it was tucked in at his hip.  Arthur could tell by the way Eames’ eyes glinted that he was considering pulling that short swatch of fabric loose and letting the towel fall.

He quickly turned his head and stared out the windows, ignoring the chuckle and the sound of fabric dropping that came from Eames’ direction.

“All right, darling, it’s safe to turn around now,” Eames said after a few moments.

Arthur hesitated, sure that Eames would still be naked, then turned slowly.   _ Well, at least he has his pants on. _  Arthur looked down at the papers in his hand in an effort to keeps his eyes away from Eames as he slowly pulled a t-shirt over his head.  Too slowly, Arthur was sure, taking his time to best show off the play of muscles as he lifted his arms, the way the fabric stuck to his still damp skin, the way…  Arthur turned his gaze away, gritting his teeth when Eames laughed softly again.

“Thanos is returning to his home in Crete on Friday.  He’s hosting a big party for his various wealthy clients and shady friends.  His itinerary suggests he plans to work from there for a few days before leaving for a jobsite in Australia the following Tuesday,” Arthur explained.

“So what’s your plan, then?” Eames asked as he moved across the room to stand in front of Arthur, who was just grateful that Eames was fully clothed now.  Except his feet, and really, a man’s feet should  _ not _ be as sexy as Arthur suddenly found Eames’ to be.

“I think we hit him during the party.  There will be at least a hundred people there, between guests and employees.  It will be a nightmare for the local police to sort out,” Arthur said.  Eames looked impressed and nodded.

“Still going long range?” he asked.

“I already have an appointment with an associate this afternoon to buy the rifle.  She’ll make sure it gets shipped to Crete without being traced.  We fly out tomorrow night, which should put us in Crete Thursday.  That will give us a couple of days to find our spot and be ready.  The party is Saturday night, we take him out and we are back on a plane Sunday morning,” Arthur told him.

“So when do we leave for this appointment?” Eames asked as he looked at the clock.

“We’ll go in a couple of hours.  In the mean time, I’m going to book our flights,” Arthur said and all but ran from the room.

++++++++++

Eames was still smiling when they left for the meeting, tickled over the way he had affected Arthur earlier in the day.  The ride was quiet and fairly short because the contact was waiting at a warehouse further along the river.

As they were walking in, Eames noticed that Arthur had a small wrapped package in his hand and motioned to it.

“What’s that for?”

“A gift for Nic,” Arthur replied.  Eames was surprised at the hot rush of jealousy that coursed through him at that.  Arthur bringing a gift for a lover, or former lover, perhaps?

Two large men with guns stood just inside the door.  Arthur greeted them by name as they patted down both Arthur and Eames.  It was on the tip of his tongue to make some remark about fondling but he decided it was best to keep quiet.  He knew better than to jeopardize a contact of Arthur’s by running his mouth.

He followed Arthur further into the half-lit building to an office area and couldn’t help asking about the gift again.

“Why did you bring a gift for Nick?” he asked.

“Bribery, of course.  Keeps me higher on the favorite client list,” Arthur said and gave Eames an odd look.

They walked into the office and were greeted loudly by a girl with bright red hair and sparkling green eyes.

“Arthur!  It’s been much too long.  We need to do more business together,” she said in an unmistakable Irish lilt and grabbed Arthur in a hug.

“It’s good to see you, Nic,” Arthur replied with a genuine smile as he returned the embrace.  Eames started and look between the two.

“This is Nick?” he asked, obviously confused, and Arthur gave him that funny look again.

“Is there some sort of weird echo in here?” Arthur asked Nic, but she just laughed and shrugged, so he turned back to Eames and explained, “Yes, N-i-c, short for Nicole.”

_ Oh _ .  Eames couldn’t help feeling a bit sheepish about his mistake.

“You know I’m not typically fond of the English, Arthur - not to mention he seems to have a difficult time with my name - but if this is the gift you brought me, then I may let you have the gun for free,” she joked and winked at Eames.

“I’m not sure he’s your type,” Arthur said and Eames slid in next to him with a grin.

“And as lovely as you are, Nic, I’m already spoken for,” he said and daringly wrapped his arm around Arthur’s waist.  Nic beamed and patted Arthur’s arm.

“You’ve always had the best taste in everything, Arthur, so I’m not surprised,” she said.  Arthur glared at Eames and shook his head.

“No, it’s not… we’re not…” Arthur sputtered and Nic just kept smiling.  Arthur finally gave up and thrust the package at her.

“Here.  I know you’ve had your eye on it for a while,” Arthur said and then dropped down into a nearby chair in what Eames could only describe as a sulk.

He watched as Nic ripped off the wrapping paper and opened the box.  When she gasped he stepped around and looked over her shoulder.  Nestled inside the box on a bed of white satin was a jeweled brooch that resembled a phoenix.

“Is that what I think it is, Arthur?” Eames asked.

“Les Fabuleuses Firebird.  Nic’s been pining for it for years now,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” Nic breathed out, “How did you get it?”

“Did some work for someone and it turned out they didn’t have the cash they promised.  I made an arrangement to take that instead,” he explained.  Eames quirked an eyebrow in question and Arthur laughed.

“It was a mutual arrangement.  I didn’t go sneaking into their house at night.  That sort of work is your territory,” he said to Eames.

“I will give you a fantastic discount today,” Nic proclaimed with a wide smile and put the brooch safely back in the box.  She unlocked a safe behind her the counter and tucked the box inside, and then she was all business again.  Arthur and Eames both joined her at the counter as she pulled out a long case and opened it for them.

“The XM2010 suppressed sniper rifle, just like you ordered,” she said and turned the case towards them.  Eames took the gun out and settled it against his shoulder.  He fiddled with it for a few minutes and then put it back in the case with a nod.

“And the scopes?” Arthur asked and Nic disappeared into a back room, returning a few minutes later with two smaller boxes.  Arthur paid for the items and arranged for them to be shipped to their hotel in Crete.  They left shortly after, quiet for the first few minutes of the drive to the condo.

“Did you really get the brooch in exchange for work?” Eames asked.

“Yes.  I always bring something for Nic, but never anything that expensive.  But when he offered to let me have something of value instead of cash, and I saw he had it, I knew I should get it for her.  I’ve worked with Nic and her crew for years, and they’ve always been fair with me, never been unable to get what I want.  It was worth losing the cost of the job to buy a little extra preference from her,” Arthur explained.

“You know, darling, if preferential treatment is what you want, I can do that for you for much cheaper than that little Faberge bauble,” Eames pointed out, grinning broadly.  Arthur laughed, much to Eames' surprise, and nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure you could.”

++++++++++

Arthur had to admit that Crete was a beautiful place.  He decided that he would have to come back again, but without work involved.  It was Friday afternoon and they had already found the perfect location to set up for the hit on Thanos.  Eames insisted that they go out for dinner and enjoy the nightlife a little, since they couldn't do anything else until Saturday night.

Arthur was already sure that he was going to regret agreeing to that idea, but for now he was going along with it.  He met Eames in the hall outside their rooms and didn't miss Eames' appreciative appraisal of his appearance in lightweight tan cotton slacks and an untucked white button-down.  He had to admit that Eames looked positively edible in his dark slacks and white shirt, the sleeves rolled up and enough buttons undone to show off the tattoos on his chest.

"Shall we, pet?” Eames asked and motioned towards the elevator.  Arthur followed him in and leaned against the back wall.  He wasn't as surprised as he probably should be when Eames stepped in front of him and leaned in close to let his lips ghost over Arthur's.

"You look fantastic, Arthur," he whispered.

"You're not looking too bad yourself," Arthur replied, and he completely blamed the air of the Mediterranean for making him say that out loud.  Eames chuckled and stepped back as the doors opened to the lobby.

Two hours, a dinner and several drinks later, Arthur was on the dance floor at a local hotspot, a gorgeous young Greek man plastered against him as they tried to move to the music against the throng of people dancing around them.  He had lost Eames somewhere around the edge of the floor, separated from each other by the press of the other dancers.  He had his eyes closed and was just enjoying the heat of surrounding bodies, the abundance of alcohol in his system making him feel lose and carefree.  The mass shifted and Arthur felt a brief coolness as one body moved away and another took its place.

He opened his eyes and found himself looking at Eames.  There was an oddly speculative look in Eames' eyes as he stared at him.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"Just waiting to see if you would bemoan the loss of that delectable young man that was here before," Eames said and Arthur let his head drop back as he laughed.

"Now why would I miss him when you've taken his place?" he replied, mostly joking, but even he had to admit there was truth to the statement.  Again, he blamed the local air... and the local drinks.  Eames' answering smile was worth whatever blow that admission had struck at Arthur's pride.  Eames' hands gripped Arthur's hips and pulled him forward until they were lined up, toes to nose.

"If that's really how you feel about it, love, you should have invited me to the floor in the first place," he said and Arthur responded by licking Eames' neck.

The next thing Arthur knew, he had Eames pressed against the back of a door, his thigh wedged between Eames' and the two of them kissing like their lives depended on the connection.  Arthur felt a sudden wave of dizziness wash over him and he pulled back, sucking deep breaths as he tried to clear his head.  He glanced around, recognizing Eames’ hotel room, but he couldn’t remember anything between the dance floor and the kiss.

"How did we get here?" he asked and Eames froze and stared at him incredulously.

"Is this a literal question about our modes of transportation or is this one of those existential questions where we examine the odd history of our relationship?  Because frankly, either one could wait until later, love," Eames replied and went back to work on Arthur's buttons.  Arthur pushed his hands away and stepped back, unsteady on his feet as his head began to spin.

"No, I mean I don't remember how I got here," Arthur muttered as he fumbled in his pocket.

"I'm not sure if I should be worried or insulted, Arthur," Eames said, and Arthur pulled out his familiar red die as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor.  He tested the weight of the die in his hand and rolled it several times before he was satisfied that he wasn't dreaming.

“Well, that's a hell of a mood killer,” Eames muttered as he looked down at Arthur.

"I remember the club, drinking and dancing, but nothing after you came out onto the floor," Arthur explained.  Eames sighed and shook his head.

"How much did you have to drink?" he asked.

"Same thing as you.  That one local alcohol that we were doing shots of... I've never had that stuff before," Arthur said and Eames nodded.

"Went straight to your head, apparently.”

“I haven’t felt this drunk since college.  I usually hold my liquor quite well,” Arthur argued the best he could around the slurring of his words.  Eames sighed again and reached down to pull Arthur to his feet.

“You should probably go on back to your room and get some sleep," he suggested.  Arthur stood there uncertainly for a few minutes before he nodded and Eames helped him back to his own room.

The hangover he had the next morning wasn't the worst he'd ever had, but it was damn close.  He met Eames for a late breakfast and they spent the day going over the details of that night.  It seemed like no time at all before they were on the roof of a building not too far from Thanos' mansion.  They had found one with a perfect line of sight to the back of the house, were the party space was being prepared.  They were stretched out on their stomachs, the rifle balanced between its bipod and Eames' shoulder.  The party was to begin in half an hour, and they had decided to give it an hour to be in full swing, with the most people there, before they took the shot.

They watched through their scopes as people arrived, and they could see Thanos moving through the rooms, chatting with his guests.  Once the patio was crowded with people, Arthur began relaying information to Eames to help him line up the shot accurately.  They had timed these steps because they knew that even though the gun was suppressed, there would still be some noise and they needed to be down off the roof in just a few minutes.

Finally, Eames was ready.  Arthur watched through the spotting scope, listening to Eames as he took a few deep breaths to steady himself.  Arthur heard the popping of the shot through the suppressor.  A second later there was a spray of red on the wall behind Thanos' head and he collapsed to the tile floor of his pool house.

The gun was dismantled and tucked away with the scope in about a minute, and five minutes later they were emerging from the building into the shadowed alley.  Next stop was to dispose of the rifle.  As nice as it would be to keep it, they needed it to disappear.  They went back to the hotel by foot, and the path they had decided on took them over a footbridge that spanned a deep canal that came part way inland from the Mediterranean.  The bridge was close enough to the sea that the tide brought water in and out of the canal, and it would quickly bury the case in silt or carry it farther out into open water.

No one else was around the bridge, so Eames lifted the case and let it drop over the side without ever breaking stride.  He and Arthur continued silently back to their hotel, parting ways in the hall without a word.

++++++++++ 

It was cloudy in Chicago when they got back, and Arthur found himself missing the sun from the last few days.  Eames disappeared without a word immediately after he showered at the condo, and Arthur wondered if that was it or if he was coming back.  He returned a few hours later and handed Arthur a large envelope.

"This should cover payback for all of the expenses," he explained and Arthur put it on the counter without responding.

"I've booked a flight out for first thing tomorrow morning," Eames continued and Arthur just nodded, not trusting himself to speak, afraid that if he did, he would beg Eames to stay.  Eames seemed to be waiting for Arthur to speak, and when he didn't, Eames sighed and went down the hall to his room.

Arthur poured himself a shot of bourbon and swallowed it quickly down.  He took the bottle and walked into his study and sat down at the piano.  He took a few more swigs from the bottle and set it on the floor by the bench.  He began playing, not paying attention to the song, just something he had memorized when he was younger.

He had been playing for some time when Eames came into the room.  He stood behind Arthur, listening and not saying anything.  Eventually Arthur stopped playing and turned on the bench to face him.

"I wasn't sure if you really played, or if it was just for show," Eames said.

"I learned when I was little, but I don't play too often anymore," Arthur said quietly.

"The guitar, too?"

"Yes.  My grandmother," Arthur said and motioned to the piano, then pointed at the guitars on their stands nearby, "and my grandfather."  Eames nodded as though something was suddenly becoming clearer.

"You really did idolize them, didn't you?" he asked.

"I wanted to be just like them, and I wanted to have everything they wanted for me.  Their love, their intelligence, their sense of self.  That's why I play these.  That's why I learned to cook.  That's why I went to college and joined the military.”

“Because that’s what they wanted for you,” Eames concluded.

“It's what they wanted and it’s what they were.  I was in college when my grandmother died.  I was able to be home for it.  She was the one that wanted to be sure I had an education.  Grandpa was a military man, all the men in my family were,” Arthur continued.

“So you signed up out of school.”

“Yes, and I wasn’t there for him when he died.  They wouldn’t let me leave to come home, not even for the funeral.  That was when I decided I was done with the military.  The dreamshare program started not long after that, and I saw it as a way to use what my grandparents had given me, but still choose my own path.”

Arthur wondered for a moment why he was confiding so much in Eames, but he realized that if he was honest with himself, he already knew the answer.  He’d grown too comfortable with Eames, and it scared him because he wanted more.  Arthur picked up the bottle and took a long swallow, relishing the burn of it down in throat as he tried to ignore the tears burning his eyes.  Eames must have noticed them, because he stepped closer and ran his thumb across Arthur’s cheek.

“Pet, it’s okay to mourn them, even after all this time,” he began and Arthur felt his resolve crumbling at the gentle touch and the tender tone of Eames' voice.  He stood quickly and pushed Eames back, steeling himself against the urge to just wrap himself up in Eames and never let go.

“Shut up, Eames, just… stop talking,” Arthur all but ordered and pushed Eames again.  Arthur let the bottle slip from his fingers and dimly registered the sound of it hitting the rug as he put both hands on Eames’ chest and pushed him backwards towards the couch.

Eames’ eyes widened when he felt his knees hit the couch and he stumbled and fell onto the cushions.  Arthur followed him down, bracing his weight with one knee on the couch and one foot on the floor.  He dug his fingers into Eames’ hair to hold him while he plundered his mouth with a searing kiss.  Arthur pushed Eames’ hands away when he began trying to remove Arthur’s clothes.

“No.  You sit there, lace your fingers behind your head, and don’t move unless I say so,” Arthur said firmly.  Eames obeyed without argument, and Arthur couldn’t help but lick across Eames’ cheek where his skin was flushed red from excitement.

Arthur dropped to both knees on the floor and pushed Eames’ legs apart so that he was between them.  He yanked Eames forward so that his butt was just hanging off the edge of the couch.  Arthur made quick work of getting Eames’ jeans and underwear down around his ankles, the fabric bunched there like manacles.

Arthur heard Eames suck in a ragged breath when he leaned down and licked up the length of his cock before taking it into his mouth.

“Fuck,  _ Arthur _ ,” he moaned and Arthur pulled away and glared up at him.

“No talking,” Arthur said and pushed two of his fingers between Eames’ lips.  Eames nodded and sucked hungrily on Arthur’s fingers as Arthur leaned back down and again let Eames’ erection slide back over his tongue.  He could feel the vibrations of Eames moaning against his fingers whenever he would swirl his tongue  _ just so _ against the head of his cock.  After a few minutes of this and Eames smearing his fingers with spit, Arthur took his hand away and noted the way Eames bit his lips to hold back a groan of disappointment at the loss.

Arthur lifted his head and smirked at Eames as he pressed his wet fingers against Eames’ asshole, teasing the puckered flesh with scrapes of his fingernails.  Eames’ hips lifted off the couch and he let his head fall back with a thump against the frame.

Arthur stopped moving and just looked at the way Eames was draped across the black leather, his skin pink, his fingers clenched in his hair to keep them up like he was told, mouth open to draw in breaths, his lips red from Arthur’s teeth and his own.  There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead when he lifted his head and looked at Arthur.

Arthur realized that it should tell him something, the way Eames was so eager and compliant, but he was in no mood to try to decipher the hidden meaning there.  Eames was staring back at him and he mouthed the word  _ Please _ without a sound.  Arthur stopped thinking and obliged him by thrusting both spit-slicked fingers into his hole.

Eames groaned, loud and guttural, and the sound rose to an almost yelping pitch when Arthur quirked his fingers and pressed firmly against his prostate.  Eames pushed down on Arthur’s hand and his cock twitched in Arthur’s grip.  He leaned down and licked the head once, twice, then wrapped his lips around it and took the length of it into his mouth, as far as he could.  He thrust his fingers in and out of Eames’ ass in time with the movements of his mouth, and the sounds he drew from Eames were intoxicating to him.

Several minutes and another brush against Eames’ prostate brought his hips completely off the couch as his back bowed and he came with a harsh cry down the back of Arthur’s throat.  Arthur was painfully hard and dropped his hand to his own lap, quickly unfastening his jeans and wrapping his hand around his own cock.  It only took a few tugs and he was coming over the top of his hand.  He let his forehead rest on Eames’ thigh as he caught his breath, panting against the quivering muscles.

Arthur opened his eyes and grimaced at the rug between his legs.  Between the spilled alcohol and this, he knew he should just replace the rug.  He felt fingers begin to gently slide through his hair and he lifted his head to look at the sated look on Eames’ face.

“You’re going to be the death of me, darling, but it would be a bloody fantastic way to go,” he muttered and Arthur had to bite his tongue to restrain his instinctive response of  _ How about we work on that for the next 40 years or so _ .  Sex with Eames was one thing, but a relationship was completely out of the question.

Arthur stood on shaky legs and turned away to find the fallen liquor bottle.  He picked it up and put the lid back on to salvage what was still in the bottle.  He looked back over his shoulder to find Eames watching him, no recrimination in his gaze, just a curious and calculating expression.  Arthur left without looking back again.

++++++++++

Eames stood by the windows in Arthur’s bedroom and watched him sleep.  He wasn’t surprised that the room was as minimalist as the rest of the house.  He hadn’t been in Arthur’s room yet, but it looked about like he had thought it would, down to the warehouse sized walk-in closet with all of Arthur’s tailored suits.  He walked over to the side of the bed and sat down gently, trying not to jostle Arthur.  He pushed a strand of hair back off Arthur’s forehead and leaned over to touch his lips to the skin he had uncovered.

“I hope to see you again soon, love,” he whispered against Arthur’s cheek.  He pressed another kiss to the corner of Arthur’s mouth and left.

++++++++++

Arthur woke slowly, with the oddest sensation that he had dreamed about Eames telling him goodbye, but he hadn’t dreamed anything in years, so he chalked it up to a delusion from the previous night’s alcohol.  He got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make coffee and take half a bottle of aspirin to get rid of his headache.

He stopped mid-stride when he saw the note on the counter and recognized Eames’ handwriting.

_ Arthur darling,  _

_ Had a cab take me to the airport, didn’t want to wake you. _

_ You know how to reach me if you need to. _

_ Thank you, for everything. _

_ E _

Eames was already gone.

Arthur walked quickly down the hall and pushed open the guest room door.  The bed was neatly made and nothing was out of place from where it had been a month ago when Eames had arrived.

_ Had it been a month? _

Arthur went back to the kitchen and started the coffee.  He figured it was just as well, because now his life could return to normal.

He kept telling himself that through the first week when he caught himself taking out the things to make tea each morning, not realizing until he had finished breakfast what he had done and then having to put everything back in the cabinet.

He kept telling himself that the first weekend when he expected to wake up to the sound of music playing in the living room and the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen, and Eames with his hair sticking up and still sleepy-eyed leaning against the counter.

He kept telling himself that through the second week when he realized that he kept looking at the door that led downstairs, expecting to see Eames come in, dripping with sweat from a workout, and plop down on the couch next to Arthur so that Arthur could fuss at him about getting sweat all over the expensive leather and Eames could ruffle his hair with an indulgent smile before disappearing for a shower.

Two weeks went by and Arthur had to admit that one month with Eames had completely changed his life.  He wasn’t sure if he liked the changes or not; he found that where he had loved the silence and solitude of his space before, now he missed the teasing and flirtations and just having someone else there to talk to.  Eames had turned his life upside down and then left.

Arthur called Nan to complain about this and she surprised him by saying, “Arthur, if you miss him so much, go to him.  It’s what he wants, anyway.”

“What?  How do you… you’ve been talking to him, haven’t you?” Arthur asked, indignant that she had been holding out that information from him.

“Of course I have.  I like him, so I wanted to keep in touch,” she replied and Arthur sputtered until she shushed him.

“Go to him, piccolo uomo.  It will make both of you happy.”

“How can you be so sure it’s what he really wants?  Eames is good at lying, you know,” Arthur told her.

“He kissed you goodbye, Arthur.  You don’t sneak into someone’s bedroom before dawn to kiss them  goodbye unless it means something,” she replied.

“I was asleep when he left, he didn’t…  _ oh _ …”

“Nan is always right,” she said and he could hear the laughter in her voice.

++++++++++

Arthur stared out the window of his hotel in London and thought for the thousandth time that this had been a bad idea.  He had brooded over what Nan had told him for a couple of days, then booked the next available flight to the Britain before he had a chance to change his mind.  Now he wished he was still brooding in his condo in Chicago.

He was seriously debating turning around and flying back.  He made it so far as to begin packing his clothes, and then his phone rang.

Eames.

He thought about ignoring it and let it ring until it almost went to voicemail before pushing the  _ Accept _ button with a sigh.

“Hello, darling, enjoying our lovely London weather?” Eames asked before Arthur even said hello.

“How did you know…” Arthur started to ask, but Eames interrupted him.

“Nan, of course.  Now listen, pet, you are going to stop repacking your suitcase and you are going to get showered and put on some nice, but casual, clothes and then come over to my house for dinner at six.  I know you have the address,” Eames said and Arthur was stuck wondering how Eames had guessed that he was repacking his suitcase.

“And Arthur, if you try to skip out on this, I will be very cross and I will come over there to the Langham and drag you here by your ear.”

Arthur gave up wondering how Eames seemed to know  _ everything _ , _ thank you, Nan _ , and made a vague noise of acquiescent that caused Eames to chuckle.

“One more thing… don’t even think about leaving, Arthur, because I’ll know.  Remember that you’re in my town now.  See you in a few hours!”

The line went silent and Arthur could only stare, dumbfounded, at the phone in his hand.

_ Well, that was interesting. _

++++++++++

Eames half expected Arthur to leave town, despite the warning that he would know, so he was somewhat surprised when his doorbell rang a few minutes before six.  He excused himself from his family and went to the entryway.

He smiled so hard it hurt when he opened the door and Arthur was standing there.  They stared for a moment, seeming to drink in the sight of each other, and then Arthur stepped inside and grabbed Eames by the arms.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Arthur said and Eames was surprised when Arthur yanked him forward into a bruising kiss.  It wasn’t quite the greeting he expected, but he wasn’t one to question a gift like that.  He pushed the door closed and wrapped both arms around Arthur, holding him as close as possible as he returned the hungry kiss.  He had no idea how long they had been standing there, gripping each other like they were afraid they would disappear, lips moving relentlessly against each other, when he heard a voice behind him.

“Marcus dear, are you going to introduce us to your friend or just continue to maul him in the foyer?” his mother asked and he felt Arthur freeze.

He watched Arthur’s eyes widen as he leaned just far enough to the side to look over Eames’ shoulder and see what was likely his family all peeking around the corner to see what Eames was up to.

“Yes, mum, we’ll be right there,” he replied and Arthur was angry in a flash.

“Your mother?” he whispered furiously.

“Yes, my mum.  It’s a family dinner.  I wanted you to meet them.”

“And you  _ didn’t tell me first _ ?” Arthur asked, and his fingers dug roughly into Eames’ arms.

“It was a surprise,” Eames explained.

“That is not something you surprise people with, Eames!” Arthur ground out, still whispering in an effort to keep the other room from hearing.

“Darling, you never would have come if I had told you ahead of time,” Eames pointed out, and Arthur started to argue the statement, but sighed in defeat.  Eames pressed a soft kiss just below Arthur’s ear and whispered, “And if you play nice with them, I’ll make it all up to you later.”

Eames smiled when a different gleam came to Arthur’s eyes and the angry flush faded from his cheeks.

“Don’t think I won’t make you pay for this,” Arthur threatened.

“Arthur, you introduced me to the Chicago mob… I think we’re even.”

“Good point,” Arthur replied after a moment’s hesitation, and then walked into the other room ahead of Eames, smoothly apologizing for his entrance and introducing himself to everyone with an open smile.

Eames saw another side of Arthur that evening, one that he had suspected existed and had caught glimpses of, but had never really experienced.

Arthur turned on the charm full force, chatting easily with Eames’ father about his horses and discussing the politics of running charitable organizations with his mother.  He was comfortable with Eames’ niece and nephew, friendly with his brother and solicitous to his sister-in-law, who was very pregnant with their third child.

There were a few moments when Eames could tell that Arthur was tense, such as when Eames leaned over in the middle of Arthur’s conversation with his mother and whispered “Did I mention you look ravishing tonight, pet?” and kissed him on the neck before returning his attention to his brother.  It was likely that only Eames caught the miniscule stutter in Arthur’s speech and the faint flush that spread over his skin.  Eames kept touching Arthur throughout the evening, the first few times drawing a slight flinch from Arthur as he would glance around at Eames’ family.  After the initial touches he must have realized that they weren’t fazed by the affection at all, because he relaxed into Eames’ caresses and even returned a few of them.

There were multiple instances where one of the other’s referred to Arthur as  _ boyfriend _ and he would glance sideways at Eames with an expectant look, as though waiting for him to contradict the term, but Eames just smiled at him and didn’t speak up.

The meal was finished and Arthur said his goodbyes before beginning to clear the table while Eames walked his family to the door.  He sighed indulgently when his mother gave him a hug and patted him on the cheek.

“You be sure to keep this one around, Marcus.  I think I can speak for us all when I say that we quite like him and we think he would be a lovely addition to the family,” she said and the others agreed.  Eames laughed and nodded.

“Well, since he has received the Williams’ stamp of approval, I’ll be sure to do my best,” he said.

A few minutes later he locked the door and turned to find Arthur leaning against the counter, watching him.

“We need to talk,” Arthur said and Eames took a deep breath.

“Yes, I really think we do,” Eames agreed as they moved back into the kitchen, “Drink?”  Arthur nodded and walked outside while Eames fixed them both a strong drink.  He carried them out to the patio where Arthur was sitting in the fading daylight, looking out over the garden.

“I really did miss you,” Arthur said quietly as he took the offered drink.  Eames sat down next to Arthur and touched his hand briefly before leaning back and sipping from his own glass.

“I know, darling.  I missed you, too.  You managed to get under my skin something fierce while I was staying there,” Eames admitted.

“Why did you leave then?”

“I wanted to ask you to come back with me, wanted to show you off to my family right away, but I could tell the whole thing was scaring you, so I tried to give you some time,” Eames explained.

“I really never expected any of this.  We’ve worked together for years and I never thought…  I'm not interested in a casual relationship, and I wasn’t sure you would want anything but that,” Arthur said.

“Despite my flirting, Arthur, I’m not the philanderer I appear to be.  What I want from you is decidely not casual."

Arthur turned in his chair and stared at Eames, his expression searching and intent.  Eames reached up one hand and smoothed his fingers over the furrow between Arthur’s brows.

“So… we’re doing this?” Arthur asked and leaned into the touch.

“Yes, we most definitely are,” Eames replied and pulled Arthur into a continuation of their interrupted kiss from earlier.

Eames tugged him to his feet a few minutes later and led him back into the house, intending to go upstairs to his bedroom, but Arthur sidetracked him with another kiss by the kitchen counter.

Eames pulled Arthur’s belt off and got a hand inside his pants when they stopped in the doorway.

They left their shoes and socks at the foot of the stairs, managing to get them off without breaking the kiss they had paused for.

Arthur lost his shirt somewhere on the second floor landing, and Eames couldn’t get enough of running his fingers over his slender torso.

Midway to the third floor they tripped and Eames ended up sprawled on his back on the stairs, Arthur leaning over him and nibbling his collarbone.

“My bed would be infinitely more comfortable, you know,” Eames pointed out as Arthur moved to lick the shell of his ear.

“I’m sure it would, but there is something deliciously debauched about the way you look right now,” Arthur replied and ran his tongue along the line of Eames’ shoulder.

“The least you could do is help me take my shirt off,” Eames prompted and motioned to where his cuffs were still buttoned at his wrists, keeping the shirt hanging from his arms.

“No, I don’t think I can,” Arthur said and pulled Eames up enough to lift the shirt over his head to the front.  Eames watched, fascinated by Arthur’s hands as he deftly twisted the fabric into an intricate knot that held his hands bound as well as handcuffs.  He lifted a brow and looked at Arthur, who just smirked in return.

“ _ Now _ I think we’ll move up to your bedroom,” Arthur said and pulled him to his feet.

They somehow made it up the last few steps and in to tumble onto the bed, Eames’ bound hands stretched out over his head as Arthur knelt over him.

“Keep those up there,” Arthur ordered and Eames shuddered in anticipation at the look in Arthur’s eyes.  Arthur began an onslaught of kissing and licking and biting all over Eames’ bared flesh.  It might have gone on for five minutes or five hours, Eames didn’t know, he just knew that after a point, he was barely able to stand the next touch, his skin was so on fire from the teasing contact.

“ _ Darling please _ ,” Eames pleaded whenever Arthur would drag his tongue along the edge of his waistband.  Eames couldn’t help the way his hips kept hitching upwards – he’d spent the last two weeks imagining a reunion with Arthur and he found that the waves of want were much more overwhelming in reality than they had been in his daydreams.  Arthur pinned Eames’ hips to the bed and looked up at him with a wicked grin.

“Didn’t you make me a promise earlier, about making something up to me?” Arthur prompted, his mouth pressed against the sensitive skin of Eames’ hip, and he shivered at the motion of Arthur’s lips tickling him.

“Yes, I did,” Eames agreed and met Arthur’s gaze, “I want you to fuck me.”

Eames could feel the tremor than ran through Arthur at that, heard the skip in his breath and could see the way his eyes darkened at the thought.

“Yes, fuck,  _ god _ , yes,” Arthur muttered and crawled up Eames’ body.  Eames brought his still-wrapped wrists up and looped them behind Arthur’s head, pulling him down, and he licked his way into Arthur’s mouth and fucked his tongue into the warmth as Arthur ground his hips down into Eames.

“Do it soon, pet, or I won’t last long enough to enjoy it,” Eames whispered into the filthy kiss and Arthur bit his lip and smirked again.

“You won’t come until I tell you to,  _ darling _ ,” Arthur said and Eames felt his cock twitch at the command in his voice.

“Whatever you say, love,” he replied, and he didn’t care that his tone was more submissive than flirtatious.

Arthur quickly removed the rest of their clothing, and Eames flushed under his hungry gaze when Arthur stopped and stared, his hand resting possessively on Eames’ thigh.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, especially sprawled out naked like this, your hands bound, panting like you can’t wait for whatever I decide to do,” Arthur whispered, and that reverent tone he had used before was back.

“Anything you want, Arthur,” Eames answered in a breathless whisper.

“Anything I want,” Arthur whispered in reply and leaned down to lick the length of Eames’ cock, “Oh, the promises you make to me.  What was that you said in Chicago, that you would die from me and be happy to go out that way?”

“As long as you are along for the ride, love.”

“Funny you should mention ride,” Arthur said with a grin and bit down hard on Eames shoulder before asking, “Lube?”

Eames motioned to the bedside table, and Arthur leaned across him to rummage through the drawer, pulling out a small bottle and a condom.

“I want to see your face… is that all right?” Arthur asked, uncertainty filling his expression for a moment.

“Yes, I… I want to see you, too.”

Arthur smiled at that, the expression open and happy, and Eames felt his heart clench with joy at the way Arthur showed himself to Eames.  No one else they knew got to see this side of Arthur, and Eames wouldn’t trade that for the world.

Eames hooked his heels on Arthur’s shoulders and leveraged his rear off the bed as Arthur moved forward between his legs.  Arthur pressed one lube slicked finger against his hole as he leaned over and nibbled Eames’ chest.  Eames shifted his hips impatiently and Arthur’s finger slipped inside, and Eames groaned at the sensation.

Arthur took his time teasing Eames open, one finger, two and then three.  Eames was nearly incoherent from holding back his own orgasm when he finally heard Arthur rip open the condom wrapper.  He watched with glazed eyes and licked his lips as Arthur rolled it on his own cock.

Arthur leaned down and Eames arched up to meet him, tongues tangling immediately in a desperate kiss as Eames felt Arthur’s cock nudge his hole.  He didn’t care for how slow Arthur was moving, so he lifted his hips and tried to push down, but Arthur grabbed his hips and held him still.

“Impatient?” Arthur asked with a grin as he pressed his cock teasingly against Eames.

“Fuck, yes.  I want you inside me…  _ now _ .”

“So demanding,” Arthur whispered against Eames’ cheek.  Eames turned his head to the side and closed his mouth over Arthur’s just as Arthur thrust into him in one smooth motion.  Eames made a noise that he would never admit to if asked later, a whining sound of pleasure that reverberated up from his toes.  His body bowed from the shock of sensation that pulsed through his body and he wrapped his legs tightly around Arthur’s hips and held him in place, pushed as deep into Eames’ body as he could go.

“Christ…  _ Arthur _ …” he sighed against Arthur’s neck as they held still for a moment, savoring the feeling of each other.  Arthur began to move, sliding out excruciatingly slowly and then pushing back in with a quick snap of his hips.  Eames’ fingers were clenched in the fabric of his shirt and his eyes were squeezed closed with the effort to hold back his own orgasm.

Arthur’s speed increased and Eames opened his eyes to look up at him, marveling that he was seeing Arthur so undone.  His hair hung around his face, his mouth was open and he was panting out gasping breaths, his eyes… his eyes were focused on Eames, black from passion and staring like he was memorizing everything about Eames in this position.

Eames felt like time slowed down, his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears and his breathing shallow in his chest as he lost himself in the intense build of pressure in his body as Arthur moved faster and faster, rolling his hips  _ just so _ and  _ fuck _ Eames wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer…

“You can come now, Eames,” Arthur whispered above him, his eyes fixed on Eames as he wrapped his hand around Eames’ aching erection.  It only took one slide of Arthur’s hand and Eames felt like he was flying apart at the seams.  There was only the sound of his own voice crying something unintelligible, the feel of Arthur moving inside him and the digging grip of Arthur’s fingers on his hip as his come hit him high on his chest.  There was a flash of white around the edge of his vision and then darkness as he felt Arthur’s rhythm stutter and then still.  He closed his eyes as Arthur let his weight drop forward, and Eames settled his bound arms around Arthur’s frame and pulled him close, his lips pressed to Arthur’s hair as they lay there, sweating and sticky and trying to breath.  Finally Arthur shifted, pulled out of his embrace, and Eames opened his eyes to see Arthur leaned up on one elbow, watching him.

“You okay?” Arthur asked quietly.

“Better than okay, pet, I’m bloody fantastic,” Eames replied with a tired smile.

“Point me to the bathroom and I’ll get us cleaned up,” Arthur offered and Eames motioned vaguely in the right direct.  He was only partially aware of Arthur coming back with a wet washcloth and wiping them both down, then removing the shirt that was tangled around his wrists.  He felt the bed shift as Arthur pulled the covers free and slid in next to him, then settled the sheet over them both.

“Should I check out of my hotel in the morning?” Arthur asked and Eames cracked open his eyes and grinned at him.

“It would be a waste to keep paying for it when I plan to keep you right here in this bed for the foreseeable future,” Eames told him.

“How long will I stay?”

“A week… a year… a lifetime…” Eames offered and rolled to his side to nuzzle against Arthur’s shoulder.

“I’m not giving up my life in Chicago.  Nan would kill me,” Arthur said with a laugh.

“She’d kill me, too.  How about we split our time between the cities?” Eames conceded and Arthur smiled as he rolled to face Eames.

“I like that idea.”

“We’ll have to do some rearranging in both places.  I need a studio, you know,” Eames pointed out.

“Your bedroom will be great for that, with all the windows.  And I’ll need an office here.”

“There are three rooms upstairs not being used, and one of them opens to the balcony,” Eames told him.

“That will work.”

“And you’ll have to share that cavernous closet of yours,” Eames added with a grin.

“No, you can put your clothes in the spare room closet,” Arthur denied with a shake of his head.

“Come now, love, it’s about compromise,” Eames argued, still smiling.

“I’ll compromise by letting you have the spare room closet,” Arthur stated, and laughed softly.

“Well, we can work on that one later,” Eames agreed, giving in for now.  Arthur nodded and his eyes began to drift closed.

“There is one other thing we’ll have to do, of course,” Eames continued, and Arthur opened his eyes and raised a brow.

“What’s that?”

“We’ll have to get you a piano and guitar.  I’m not sure if we could get a piano to the fourth floor where your office would be, but a baby grand would fit perfectly in the corner downstairs,” Eames explained as he closed the gap between them and kissed Arthur softly.  When they separated, Arthur was smiling.

“I think I would like that.”

++++++++++

_ Epilogue: _

Arthur walked into the condo with groceries just as Eames was hanging up the phone.

“There’s a family lunch this Sunday,” Eames told him and Arthur glanced at him sideways as he put away the food.

“Was that Nan?” Arthur asked and Eames hummed a positive response.

“Since when does  _ my _ godmother only communicate through my boyfriend?” Arthur asked with an indignant tone.  Eames had the nerve to grin and pat Arthur on the head.

“I called her about something else, darling, and she let me know about lunch.  Don’t worry, she still loves you best,” Eames explained.

“There are times I doubt that,” Arthur muttered to the fridge.

“She insisted that we be there because she wants to give us an anniversary gift… of sorts,” Eames said.

“She does realize that since we aren’t married, she isn’t obligated to give us gifts, right?” Arthur asked as he started water boiling for dinner.

“She knows, but apparently she considers the two year mark worth celebrating.  Of course, you do know that she considers all those years we worked together as part of our relationship, don’t you?” Eames asked.

“Why would she think that?” Arthur wondered and Eames laughed.

“She called it our ‘courtship’ and made some comment about pigtail pulling,” Eames replied.

“Well, that’s Nan for you.”

“Don’t rain on the old gal’s parade, Arthur.  She’s just glad that we are still together and still happy.”

“Apparently she doesn’t know that I threaten to leave you at least twice a day,” Arthur pointed out.

“Oh, she knows, she just doesn’t believe it any more than I do,” Eames countered with an affectionate grin as he crowded Arthur back against the counter.

“And what makes both of you so sure?” Arthur asked as he nuzzled Eames’ neck, licking  _ that spot _ below his ear that he knew always make Eames shiver with want.  Eames sighed and pulled their hips flush.

“You can’t live without me, love,” Eames replied and tried to close his mouth over Arthur’s, but Arthur responded with a nip to his bottom lip.

“I think it’s you that can’t live without me,” Arthur argued.

“Well then, you would never leave me because you couldn’t bear to devastate me so,” Eames said and Arthur had to laugh at that logic.

“You just might be right on that one,” he agreed and let Eames kiss him until they were both breathless.  Arthur had started to unbutton Eames’ shirt when he heard the sizzle of water boiling over on the stove.

“We’ll continue this later,” Eames promised, then nibbled one last time at Arthur’s earlobe before pulling away with a smile.

“Damn right we will.”

++++++++++

Nan had a cake for them at the lunch, but Arthur supposed that there were worse things she could have done.  The men teased him about it, of course, but he knew they all liked Eames and thought of him as part of the family, so Arthur took it all in stride.

Eames and Nan had disappeared at some point after dessert, and that was never a good thing for Arthur’s sanity.  He had learned firsthand what conspirators they were when together.  He finally found them in the same sitting room where Nan had cornered Eames during the job years before.

“What are you two up to?” he asked as he gave Nan a kiss on the cheek and sat down beside Eames on the couch, his arm draped over the back so that he could thread his fingers through Eames’ hair.

“Just talking, piccolo uomo,” Nan replied and Eames’ shot her a mock glare.

“Why does he get ‘little man’ and I get ‘baby boy’?” he asked, and Arthur answered for her.

“Because she learned long ago that I was never a baby boy.”

“It’s true,” Nan agreed with a nod, “Arthur always had too much presence for his age, always so sure of himself.”

“And I don’t?” Eames wondered incredulously.

“No, you have the free spirited, rush head long attitude of a fearless child, so baby boy suits you better,” Nan explained.

“Don’t bother arguing, Eames, you know she’s right,” Arthur interrupted and Eames relented with a sigh.

“Fine, I surrender.”

Arthur smiled and pressed a kiss to Eames’ temple, which made Eames smile before explaining, “We were waiting for you.  Nan wants to give us the gift.”

Nan smiled, the devious smile she wore when she was up to no good, and held out an envelope to Arthur.  He took it cautiously and held it in his lap for a moment, almost afraid to look inside.

“Oh go on, darling, it won’t bite,” Eames exclaimed and poked him in the ribs.  Arthur slid his finger under the flap to loosen it and pulled out two airline tickets and what looked like a reservation confirmation for a five-star hotel in New York City.

“I told her that we would love to go to New York again,” Eames explained, and Arthur looked up at him, a bit puzzled.

“But we were just there two weeks ago,” Arthur pointed out and Eames smiled, an expression that looked eerily similar to the one that Nan was still wearing.  Arthur looked back and forth between the two of them and finally shook his head.

“All right,  _ really _ , what are the two of you up to?” he asked, giving them both a pointed look that said he better get answers, and fast.  Eames, of course, just smirked at him like a cat with a canary, and Nan muffled her laugh with her hand.

“I hear the courthouses there are just lovely this time of year, Arthur,” Eames commented in an entirely too casual tone of voice.  Arthur thought about that a moment and looked down at the tickets in his hand.  Courthouses… hotel stay…  _ oh dear god _ …

“You’re proposing?!” he blurted out and Eames  _ laughed _ , damn him, and held out his hand to Nan.

“Twenty dollars, Nan.  I told you it wouldn’t take him that long to figure it out.”  She handed over the money without protest and patted Arthur on the cheek.

“You go, make it official, have a nice little honeymoon, my treat,” she said and Arthur just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“You two plotted this whole thing, didn’t you?” he asked and they both smiled those matching mischievous smiles again.

“This kind of teaming up is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life, isn’t it?”

“With or without New York, darling,” Eames promised.  Arthur couldn’t fight the flood of warmth that spread through him at that, and he leaned in to kiss Eames soundly, causing Nan to laugh again.  He might never admit it to them, but he couldn’t imagine a better future to look forward to.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> Misc note - I had more fun writing this than I think most fics I've done.  I created my own backstory for both boys and it REALLY helped shape them in my head and made the details of the fic so much more interesting to indulge in.  I did a lot of research on this one to try to make locations and things more real for me (for example, the hotel in London, the Langham, is a real hotel, and the gun Eames used, the XM2010, really is a limited quantity suppressed sniper rifle used by the military).
> 
> bambino - Italian for "baby boy"
> 
> picolo uomo - Italian for "little man"
> 
> Les Fabuleuses Firebird - http://www.asiatatler.com/hong-kong/product/faberge-les-fabuleuses-firebird-brooch *makes gimme hands*
> 
> Maserati GranTurismo S - http://www.maserati.com/maserati/en/en/index/models/GranTurismo-S/Introduction.html - there are two versions of the GranTurismo S.  One of them is available in the US, the automatic.  The one Arthur drives is the European model with a different transmission.  I don't know about a waiting list for it - that I made up.
> 
> Arthur's home - I had way to much fun with this - I actually fully designed his home, and have the graphics saved to prove it.  He lives in the River North area of Chicago, so the river that he sees is the Chicago River where it turns and runs to connect with Lake Michigan, and depending on which side of his building he is on, he would be able to see both the river and the lake.
> 
> Eames military background, mentioned in the pub - in building the backstory for Eames I was researching the SAS and learned that each SAS squadron is broken down into four troops (each with a training specialty), each troop is broken down into 4-man patrols, and each man has their own individual role.  So, Eames was in a Mountain troop that specializes in Artic combat and survival (skis, mountain climbing, snowshoes, etc).  Eames role in his patrol was demolitions.  This is why Arthur says that it explains the level that Eames designed for the inception job.


	2. Should I Stay Or Should I Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> B-Side to London Calling - interactions between Eames and Nan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This overlaps with the main story portion of London Calling.
> 
> Note 1: Text that is bolded was copy/pasted from London Calling to make it more clear where these scenes fit into the original timeline - this may cause POV shifts in the scene.
> 
> Note 2: I loved the character of Nan, and readers did, too - I really wanted to write more with her than what I could work into London Calling, so I did a little follow-up that shows some of her conversations with Eames that were mentioned but not shown in the original story. Additional author notes at end of story

**They gathered around the dinner table, every one talking and laughing, enjoying the presence of family and friends. Eames was regaling people with tales that Arthur was sure were from dreamshare jobs, but Eames was very careful about how he phrased things. Everyone seemed quite taken with him and more than once Nan looked over at Arthur and smiled that same mischievous smile. Arthur shook his head each time, warning her with a glance to leave things alone.** ****  
**  
** **He should have known better, of course. When dinner was over, Arthur excused himself for a few minutes to talk business with Mickey, Nan’s son and the head of the family.**

Eames began to mingle with the others and was in the middle of a conversation with one of the many cousins when he felt someone take his elbow.  He turned and smiled at Nan, who was standing there with her hand tucked under his arm.

“Come, Eames, let’s go have a chat,” she said, smiling kindly as she tugged him towards a side room.  He made his apologies to the cousin and went with her.  He settled on a loveseat there while she sat in a wingback chair beside him.

“Are you really English or is that a fake accent?” she asked and Eames chuckled.

“It’s real.  I was born and raised there.”

“And you were in the military, obviously.”

“How did you know?” Eames questioned.

“I can tell by the way you carry yourself.  I know the signs.  I would assume special forces of some kind.  You don’t seem the type to be a regular soldier,” she explained.

“All of that is true.”

“So, tell me how you met Arthur,” she prompted with that same sweet smile that Eames couldn’t help but smile in return, despite the sudden topic shift.

“We worked on a job together.  Met through mutual acquaintances,” he replied.

“How long have you known him?”

“Oh, must be about six or seven years now.”

“Did you fall in love with him right away?”

Eames gaped at her, sure that his ears were playing a trick on him.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked incredulously.

“Did you fall in love right away or did it take a while?” Nan repeated, still smiling, her gaze guileless.

“I… I’m not… we’re not…”

“Oh, it’s okay, bambino, you can tell me the truth.  We all accept Arthur as he is, you know,” Nan said and patted him arm.

“But Arthur likes girls,” Eames responded lamely, his mind beginning to whirl a bit trying to keep up with the conversation.

“Sometimes, yes.  So, what are your plans for the future?” Nan continued and Eames knew that his eyes were growing wider and wider with each question.

“The future?  There aren’t any plans for the future, we’re just working together on a job,” he explained and Nan made a scoffing noise.

“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me, you can keep your secrets.  Did you know it’s legal for the two of you to get married in New York now?”

This all had to be a joke... Arthur must have put her up to it.  That was the only explanation that made sense.  Eames schooled his expression away from shock and confusion to something more like his normal, casual smile.  If Arthur wanted to pull a prank, Eames could play along.

"I had heard that they passed that law, yes.”

“So, you could get married in New York and then come back here and we will throw you a big party.  There is a lovely hotel downtown with the most exquisite ballroom, and it would be plenty big enough for as many guests as you want to invite.”

Eames smiled and nodded and made a humming noise of agreement.

“And children?  Have you discussed them?  Both of you being men, you would likely need a surrogate, maybe an egg donor.  Or you could adopt.  But I think it would be important for Arthur to have a child of his own blood, so an egg donor with him as the father would be lovely.  Of course, if you wanted two kids, you could be the father of the second…”

Eames began to tune her out in an effort to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.  If this was a joke, she was a flawless actress to be carrying it this far.  She was talking away, smiling sweetly and patting his arm, oblivious to the fact that Eames was barely responding.  Movement in the doorway caught his attention and he turned to see Arthur standing there.  They caught each other’s eye for a moment and then Arthur gave Nan a disapproving look.

 **“Nan, I told you not to do this. I told you it’s not like that,” he said as he stopped in front of them.** ****  
****  
**“Why, I don’t know what you mean, Arthur. Eames and I were just having a simple conversation,” she responded with an innocent smile.** ****  
****  
**“Nothing is simple with you, Nan, and you know it,” Arthur replied with exasperated fondness, “Eames and I are leaving now.”** ****  
**  
** **He gave her a tight hug and choked back a laugh when she whispered, “You keep this one, Arthur. He has a good soul.” She turned and hugged Eames as well, then walked them to the door and stood waving goodbye until they were out of sight down the street.**

++++++++++

**Eames stood by the windows in Arthur’s bedroom and watched him sleep. He wasn’t surprised that the room was as minimalist as the rest of the house. He hadn’t been in Arthur’s room yet, but it looked about like he had thought it would, down to the warehouse sized walk-in closet with all of Arthur’s tailored suits. He walked over to the side of the bed and sat down gently, trying not to jostle Arthur. He pushed a strand of hair back off Arthur’s forehead and leaned over to touch his lips to the skin he had uncovered.**

**“I hope to see you again soon, love,” he whispered against Arthur’s cheek. He pressed another kiss to the corner of Arthur’s mouth and left.**

Eames wiped paint off his hands and picked up his ringing cell phone, his lips parting to grin when he read the name on the screen.

“Buon giorno, Signora Nicolosi,” he greeted.

“Ciao, Signore Eames,” Nan replied.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice, Nan?”

“I received that lovely card and the flowers that you sent, bambino, and just had to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Just a little something to show my appreciation for your hospitality.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Eames.  Now, what are you doing in London?”  Eames wasn’t sure he would ever get used to her abrupt topic changes.  When she wanted to get down to business, she certainly did so.

“Well, I do live here, Nan, so it seemed appropriate.”

“Yes, but why did you leave Chicago in the first place?”

“The job was over…”  Nan interrupted him with an impatient snort.

“The job may have brought you to Arthur’s home, but there is no use pretending that we don’t both know that isn’t what kept you there,” she replied.

“You really are too observant, Nan,” Eames commented in a dry, amused tone.

“Nan knows all.  You’ll remember that one of these days.  So, why did you leave?”

Eames sighed and rubbed a tired hand across his eyes, debating the intelligence of admitting anything to someone that he knew was likely to make a similar call to Arthur.   _Well, fuck it, she obviously already figured it all out…_

“He was panicking.  I thought it best to give him some space for a little while,” he explained.

“That sounds like Arthur.”

“How’s that?”

This time Nan sighed and Eames leaned back in his chair and waited for her reply.

“I’ve met many of Arthur’s paramours over the years, but I could always tell that his heart wasn’t truly there.  He never told them the truth about his work, or about the family.  That was always the first clue.”

“He told me the truth out you,” Eames pointed out.

“Yes, I know, which is part of how I know you mean more to him than he let on.”

“Part of it?”

“Arthur grew up in an open, loving home.  He never had to pretend to be something he wasn’t with his family, or with our family.  We always accepted him the way he is.  But at school, and in the military… even in his work later, he had to hide so many things about himself from everyone else.  He learned to close himself off when he needed to.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that about him over the years,” Eames agreed.

“He doesn’t leave it turned on all the time, like you do.  And yes, I noticed that about you, so don’t try to deny it.“  Eames laughed softly, completely unsurprised now by her observations, as Nan continued to explain, “Because it was something he learned, something that wasn’t natural to him, he sometimes slips.  More so when he is around people he normally doesn’t have to hide from.”

“Like you.”

“Yes, like me.  I know all of his… how do you say… his suggerimenti… no, that’s not right,” Nan muttered to herself a few more moments and then blurted out, “His tells!”

“You know all of his tells?  Nan, you’ve been holding out on me.  Be a dear and share this information with me,” Eames replied, chuckling.

“Non mi, you must learn them for yourself, that’s half the fun of amore,” Nan said.

“So when did you know there was something there… for me?” Eames asked.

“Before you came over for lunch,” Nan confessed.  Eames thought about that a moment and then started laughing.

“Oh, signora, you are a crafty thing, aren’t you?  You knew when you cornered me that he and I weren’t together yet, didn’t you?” Eames wondered.

“I knew you were headed that direction, if you weren’t there already.”  They were both silent for a few breaths before Eames spoke again.

“I left while he was sleeping.  Snuck into his room, kissed him goodbye and walked out.  Do you think I shouldn’t have left Chicago?“ Eames asked and Nan didn’t hesitate at the sudden confession.

“No, I think it was the right decision, to let him see what it is like now that you are gone, so that he can figure it out himself, these questioni di cuore.”

“Matters of the heart, huh?”

“Voi lo amino.”

Eames considered that simple statement, _you love him_.

“Yes, I do love him, Nan.”

“Egli vi ama, egli ha bisogno di voi,” Nan added.

“I don’t think Arthur _needs_ anyone,” Eames argued.

“Si, he does.  He _needs_ you, he just hasn’t admitted to himself how much yet,” Nan countered.

“I would appreciate any advice you can give me,” Eames replied.

“Do just what you've been doing, give him time.  I have a feeling he'll come around soon,” Nan told him.

“Thank you for the call, dear girl.  It has been most enlightening,” Eames said.

“I’ll be in touch, bambino.”

++++++++++

It was a few weeks later when Eames phone rang and showed Nan’s number on the display again.

“Ciao, signora.”

“He’s in London.”

“What?”

“Not what, who.”

“Who?”

“Arthur, of course.”

“Arthur’s in London?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Ok, let’s back up a second and stop playing Who’s on First.  You’re calling to let me know that Arthur is in London?” Eames asked, trying to make sense of the conversation.

“Yes.  He flew in this morning.  Have you heard from him yet?” Nan asked.

“No, I haven’t.  Knowing Arthur he is hiding in his hotel room, debating on turning around and going home,” Eames commented.

“That sounds like Arthur.  Confident to a fault most of the time, but when he isn’t sure, he really isn’t sure.  He is staying at the Langham Hotel, room 224,” Nan told him and Eames jotted the number down on a scrap of paper.

“I owe you big, Nan.”

“You’ll make it up to me somehow,” she replied with a laugh and ended the call.

Eames stood staring out the window for a few minutes, considering what to do.  He smiled, suddenly, and picked his phone up again and began dialing his parent’s number.  He would show Arthur just how serious he was about this by introducing him to his family, and if that wasn’t enough to convince him, then Eames would just kidnap him and hold him prisoner until he gave in to the inevitable.

Half an hour later, with dinner plans all squared away, he dialed Arthur’s cell, tapping his fingers impatiently on his desk as the call connected through international relays.  Finally it stopped ringing as Arthur answered.

**“Hello, darling, enjoying our lovely London weather?” Eames asked before Arthur even said hello.**

**“How did you know…” Arthur started to ask, but Eames interrupted him.**

**“Nan, of course. Now listen, pet, you are going to stop repacking your suitcase and you are going to get showered and put on some nice, but casual, clothes and then come over to my house for dinner at six. I know you have the address,” Eames said and Arthur was stuck wondering how Eames had guessed that he was repacking his suitcase.**

**“And Arthur, if you try to skip out on this, I will be very cross and I will come over there to the Langham and drag you here by your ear.”**

**Arthur gave up wondering how Eames seemed to know** **_everything, thank you, Nan_ ** **, and made a vague noise of acquiescent that caused Eames to chuckle.**

**“One more thing… don’t even think about leaving, Arthur, because I’ll know. Remember that you’re in my town now. See you in a few hours!”**

++++++++++

Eames waited until Arthur had gone to the store to call Nan.

“Ciao, bambino.”

“Hello, Nan.  I need your devious little self to help me with something,” Eames greeted her and she laughed.

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“I’m going to propose to Arthur.”

Total silence was the only response from the other end of the line for several seconds, and then he had to pull the phone away from his ear when Nan began yelling Italian so fast he couldn’t translate.  He assumed, from the tone of her voice, that she was happy about what he had said.  Finally she calmed down enough to speak normally.

“Eames, that is _wonderful_!  What do you need me to do?”

“Well, I want you to be there for it, so I thought you should pull together a little Sunday lunch.  Our two year anniversary is coming up this weekend, so that would be a perfect excuse,” Eames explained.

“Of course!  I will get a cake for your anniversary, and a gift.”

“You don’t need to do all that,” Eames pointed out.

“Oh, but I do.  That will be part of the excuse for getting you over here.  Hmm… I think a trip to New York would be a lovely anniversary gift, and a stay at a lovely hotel there.  You can use it as your honeymoon,” Nan offered and Eames laughed.

“Of course I mention proposing and you are already planning the honeymoon,” he said and Nan chuckled as well.

“It is a perfect plan and you know it,” she replied.

“Of course it is, dear, because you thought of it.  That’s why I called you after all,” Eames agreed.

“I don’t know why you insist on saying it is only your two year anniversary,” Nan commented.

“Arthur refuses to include the time on the job, says that it doesn’t count,” Eames explained.

“I was thinking more about all the years before that.  Those were your true courtship, you know.”

“Oh really?  I don’t think most people would have called that a courtship so much as a feud.”

“It was a courtship, much like young boys pulling pigtails on the playground when they like a girl but don’t know what to do about it,” Nan said.

“I don’t think I want to know which of us was the girl in your scenario,” Eames replied in a dryly amused tone.

“Oh, I’m sure it was evenly split, my dear.  Now, you just make sure you get Arthur here and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Will do.  I hear the elevator coming up now, so I better go,” Eames said and ended the call.

**Arthur walked into the condo with groceries just as Eames was hanging up the phone.**

**“There’s a family lunch this Sunday,” Eames told him and Arthur glanced at him sideways as he put away the food.**

**“Was that Nan?” Arthur asked and Eames hummed a positive response.**

**“Since when does my godmother only communicate through my boyfriend?” Arthur asked with an indignant tone. Eames had the nerve to grin and pat Arthur on the head.**

**“I called her about something else, darling, and she let me know about lunch. Don’t worry, she still loves you best,” Eames explained.**

**“There are times I doubt that,” Arthur muttered to the fridge.**

**“She insisted that we be there because she wants to give us an anniversary gift… of sorts,” Eames said.**

**“She does realize that since we aren’t married, she isn’t obligated to give us gifts, right?” Arthur asked as he started water boiling for dinner.**

**“She knows, but apparently she considers the two year mark worth celebrating. Of course, you do know that she considers all those years we worked together as part of our relationship, don’t you?” Eames asked.**

**“Why would she think that?” Arthur wondered and Eames laughed.**

**“She called it our ‘courtship’ and made some comment about pigtail pulling,” Eames replied.**

**“Well, that’s Nan for you.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
>  
> 
> Italian used by Nan during the various scenes:  
> si = yes  
> bambino = baby boy  
> ciao = hello  
> buon giorno = good day  
> Signora Nicolosi = Mrs. Nicolosi  
> Signore Eames = Mr. Eames  
> non mi = not me/I will not  
> suggerimenti = hints (she means tells)  
> amore = love  
> questioni di cuore = matters of the heart  
> voi lo amano = you love him  
> egli vi ama = he loves you  
> egli ha bisogno di voi = he needs you


	3. Career Opportunities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames finds out about the incident with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leads right into the beginning of London Calling

Eames had just settled onto a stool in a smoky bar in Amsterdam when his cell phone rang.  He pulled it out, checked the number and smiled as he answered.

"Doyle!  How are you?" he greeted.  Eames and Doyle had been in the military together and liked to keep in touch in case their freelance careers overlapped.

"Can't complain, Williams."

"How's business these days?" Eames asked.

"Booming, thanks to all the crazies in the world.  Security details are always in demand," Doyle replied.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Eames prompted.

"You in town?"

"Amsterdam," Eames said with a frown.

"Talked to your family?"

"Not since I left.  What's going on?"

"Someone took shots at your father and brother.  They were leaving lunch together.  Luckily Sharon wasn't with them," Doyle explained.  Eames forced his breathing to stay even against the surge of anger he felt.

"Any word on the street what it was about?" he asked.

"I haven't heard anything yet.  I talked to the boys already, and if you need anything, we're available," Doyle offered.

Eames was quiet as he considered the situation.  It wasn't likely that anyone was after his family.  If anything, people would be looking for him, and the fact that someone figured out his real identity disturbed him greatly.

"I appreciate the offer, Doyle, but not for this one," Eames said.

"You sure, man?  You don't want to go at something like this alone."

"Oh, I won't, but I have a feeling I'm going to have to go outside the box on this one."

"You know we’re equipped to handle this sort of thing."

"You guys are the best in your field, Doyle, but there is only one person I trust to have my back on something like this," Eames replied.

"Sure thing, Williams.  You know how to reach me if you change your mind, or if you and your friend need backup," Doyle reiterated and they ended the call.

Eames waved the bartender over and ordered a drink - he needed some liquid courage for the call he was about to make.  A few drinks later he finally pulled out his phone again and scrolled through his contacts.  He took a deep breath and pushed the button to dial.  It rang several times and Eames was about to give up when it finally connected.

“Whoever this is, you better be bleeding out or I will end you… messily," Arthur said when he answered the phone.

_ Well, that doesn't bode well for the future of this endeavor.  This isn't something I can back down from, though, so in for a penny, in for a pound. _

“Really, Arthur, is that any way to greet someone calling to offer you a job?”


	4. What's My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Why does he get ‘little man’ and I get ‘baby boy’?” Eames asked, and Arthur answered for her. “Because she learned long ago that I was never a baby boy.” “It’s true,” Nan agreed with a nod, “Arthur always had too much presence for his age, always so sure of himself.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to young Arthur in the London Calling verse.

Nan watched as Arthur ran around the room, smiling at his antics as she shared tea with Agnes, Arthur’s grandmother.   
  
The two of them had come over so that Arthur could play with Nan’s grandchildren. But where the other children had wanted to play with blocks and color all over their coloring books, Arthur had little patience for people who drew outside the lines. So instead he occupied his time with exploring Nan’s kitchen and dining room and eavesdropping on the adult conversation to see if he heard anything interesting, or so Nan claimed.   
  
_ (Arthur would later say that he had apparently started these habits very early, because at the time he was only a little over two years old.) _   
  
“He’s sleeping through the night much better now. His nightmares seem to be tapering off,” Agnes informed her and Nan frowned. She didn’t like to think about a child like Arthur losing his parents so young, but at least he had family that loved him to look after him. It had been only a month since the car accident that killed his mother and father, and she hoped that the silver lining to him being so young was that he would weather the storm more easily.   
  
“And you? How are you and Coleman holding up?” Nan asked. Agnes shrugged and offered a weak smile.   
  
“We’re doing fine. We...”   
  
They both jumped, startled, as a loud thump and a sharp cry echoed from the next room. Nan made it there first and found Arthur lying on the floor beside the dining room table with his hand on his head.   
  
“What happened?” Agnes asked as she knelt down by Arthur.   
  
“I fell,” Arthur replied and poked a small finger against a red mark on his forehead. Agnes inspected the skin and found a small lump already beginning to form.   
  
“You’ll have a bump, but you’ll be all right,” Agnes told him and smoothed his hair back.   
  
“Bambino, do you want Nan to kiss it and make it feel better?” Nan asked and reached towards Arthur, but he shook his head and pushed her hands away. He grabbed the nearest table and pulled himself to his feet and frowned at both of them.   
  
“Non bambino,” he told them in a very serious tone of voice. Agnes hid her smile behind her hand, her eyes twinkling as she looked at Nan. Nan stared at Arthur, meeting his little gaze as she also shook her head.   
  
“No, non sei un bambino,” she agreed and studied the small boy, with his fierce expression and his determined nature. Arthur watched her and after a moment he tilted his chin further up, a defiant gesture that should be out of place on such a young child, but didn’t surprise her in the least coming from Arthur.   
  
“Sei un piccolo uomo,” she added with a soft smile. Arthur appeared to consider this thoroughly before he finally nodded.   
  
“Piclo umo,” he repeated and Nan’s smile grew wider.   
  
“Close enough. Now, would you like some ice cream?” she asked and Arthur grinned and ran towards the kitchen, his bumps and bruises already forgotten in light of his favorite treat.   
  
Agnes and Nan waited until he was out of the room and then looked at each other and burst out laughing.   
  
“Yes, he is definitely a little man,” Agnes agreed after they were able to stifle the last of their giggles.   
  
“I won’t make the mistake of calling him bambino again,” Nan replied and the laughter started anew.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> No, non sei un bambino = No, you're not a baby boy  
> Sei un piccolo uomo = You're a little man


	5. First Night Back In London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur learns early on that Eames comes by his personality honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set immediately after the main part of London Calling, the morning after Arthur arrives at Eames' house

Arthur woke to sunlight streaming in the windows and his arm numb from where Eames was laying on it as they curled around each other.  He slid his arm free with a grimace at the faint tingling already dancing along his skin.  He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face as Eames started to stir beside him.

Arthur looked down as Eames opened his eyes, drowsy blue staring up at him as Eames stretched languorously, his lips parted in a Cheshire cat grin.

"Good morning, love," Eames greeted, his voice scratchy and sleep deepened.

"Good morning," Arthur replied and leaned over to press a kiss to the crinkle between Eames' eyes.  Eames hummed a pleased noise at the touch and arched into the contact.

"I was really hoping that I hadn't dreamed yesterday," Eames admitted as he pulled Arthur down on top of him, his fingers threading through the loose strands of Arthur's hair.

"No dream."

"Brilliant," Eames whispered against his lips as they kissed, light and lingering, just enjoying the nearness of each other.

"I'm famished, pet.  Fancy breakfast?" Eames asked when they finally parted.  Arthur nodded and they forced themselves from the comfort of the bed.  Arthur caught a pair of sweat pants as Eames tossed them across the room and slid them on, tying them tightly to keep them from falling off his hips.  He put on his own undershirt as he followed Eames down the stairs to the kitchen.

Eames was cracking eggs into a pan and Arthur had sat down at the bar with a cup of coffee when the phone rang.  Eames looked at the display and answered it on speaker phone.

"Good morning, mum."

"Good morning, Marcus.  You slept well, I trust," Eames' mother replied.  Arthur looked up and met Eames' gaze, matching his smirking expression.

"Best night's sleep in ages, thanks for asking."

"Doesn't surprise me.  Good morning to you, too, Arthur," Beatrice said and Arthur choked on the swallow of coffee he had just started to take.  Eames dropped the spatula into the frying pan and darted over to pound on Arthur's back as he coughed.

"Oh dear, did I break him already?" Beatrice asked as Arthur got his breathing back under control.

"Good morning, Mrs. Williams," Arthur replied as soon as he was able.  Eames gave him one last pat on the back and went back to the stove to save the eggs.

"Really, Arthur, you're going to be part of the family, so you should call me Beatrice.  Although I suppose Mrs. Williams is better than Lady Peterleigh," she chided him.

"Mum, leave him be."

"It's all right, Beatrice.  Sorry about all that, you just caught me off guard," Arthur replied.

"Surprised that I knew you were there?  You shouldn't be.  I'm well aware of my son's predilections.  Frankly, I was surprised that he didn't make us leave as soon as you arrived last night."

"Mother!" Eames objected.

"Yes, Marcus, you were a perfectly dutiful host last night.  I'm simply saying that if it had been me that was attacked in the hall by someone as good looking as Arthur, I would have shooed everyone out the door so fast their heads would spin."

Arthur looked over at Eames and grinned, blushing a little as Eames wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I can tell by the silence that I've overstayed my welcome on the call.  I'll let you two get back to  _ whatever _ you were doing."

"Love you, mum.  I'll call you in a few days," Eames replied, still smiling at Arthur as he spooned the finished eggs onto plates.

"Have fun checking Arthur out of his hotel.  I'll be in touch, darlings," Beatrice said and disconnected, the dial tone echoing through the room until Eames turned the speaker off.  Arthur started laughing and Eames quirked a brow in wonder.

"Sorry, it's just... I can see where you get a lot of your personality traits," Arthur explained.

"Ah, yes.  I am a great deal like my mother in many things," Eames agreed with a small smile as he settled on the stool beside Arthur.

"From what I know of her so far, that's not a bad thing.  And she is still a beautiful woman, so if you age half as well as she has, you'll be very lucky," Arthur stated as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Eames' neck.

"You do say the sweetest things, love."


	6. Something About England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur’s birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, a week or so after First Night Back In London

“Happy birthday, Arthur,” Eames whispered against Arthur’s ear, waking him and making him crack one eye open to glare.

“Come on, pet.  I brought you breakfast in bed,” Eames cajoled and held up his hands to show Arthur coffee and pastries from the bakery on the corner.

“Fancy,” Arthur muttered sarcastically, but his grin took the heat from the words.

“I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare.”

“I’m sure.  Nan should have called you earlier than last night to tell you when it was.”

“Hey!  I knew the month, I just couldn’t remember the day,” Eames defended himself, but Arthur just gave him  _ a look _ .

“Just go with it, Arthur.  Besides, I’ll take you out for dinner tonight,” Eames promised.

Arthur pulled back the covers and motioned for Eames to join him.

“Fine, but the least you can do is feed me this breakfast in bed,” Arthur replied.

“And I’ll lick you clean of any crumbs we drop,” Eames said with a smirk as he set the coffee on the nightstand, toed off his shoes and slid under the sheets.


	7. Four Horsemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Eames return to Chicago and begin ‘compromising’ about living arrangements, i.e.… Arthur’s closet. Also, Ariadne finds out about them and it snowballs a bit from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after First Night Back, approx a month after the end of main part of London Calling

Arthur pulled into his garage and parked the truck, then turned to Eames.

“Still have your security card?” he asked and Eames nodded with a sheepish smile.

“Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it,” he admitted.  Arthur ducked his head with a blush and grin.

“Yeah, well… I never took you out of the security system,” Arthur replied.  Eames’ smile widened and he leaned across the console and gave Arthur a quick kiss.

“Come on then, let’s get this stuff upstairs.”

They had spent a month in London, Arthur sorting out his new office upstairs while Eames worked on various projects he had going.  They’d gone out, they’d stayed in, they’d talked about everything and nothing, and every night they had gone to bed beside each other.

Arthur wouldn’t say it out loud, for fear of inflating Eames’ already substantial ego, but it had been the best month he’d ever had.

They dropped their bags in the living room and dropped themselves on the couch with matching sighs.

“I’m beat.  I really don’t want to even think about the house right now,” Arthur said and Eames nodded agreement and let his head tilt over to rest on Arthur’s shoulder.  Arthur kissed the top of Eames’ head and let his eyes slide shut,  _ just for a minute _ …

++++++++++

“Coffee, pet?” Eames asked the next morning, ignoring the glare Arthur sent him.

“I can’t believe we fell asleep on the couch.  It will take weeks to get rid of this crick in my neck,” Arthur muttered as he took the proffered mug.

“Not my fault, Arthur, so you can turn that nasty look elsewhere,” Eames replied with a barely suppressed chuckle as he draped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders from behind and pulled him into an embrace.  Arthur relaxed into him and sipped his coffee.

“Today we need to get things sorted, or at least start working on it,” Arthur said.

“Which means figuring out the closet issue, since I would like access to my clothes,” Eames prompted.

“There is a closet in your room.”

“If I put the clothes in my studio closet then I won’t have as much storage space there, and they will smell like chemicals after a while.”

“Then use the closet in the spare room.”

“And if we have guests who need the space, what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, you aren’t getting my closet,” Arthur argued and Eames sighed and stepped away.

“Sharing that huge closet of yours would not be the end of the world, darling.  It’s not like that is one of the signs of the apocalypse,” Eames pointed out and Arthur glared at him again.  Eames held his hands up in surrender and shook his head.

“Fine.  I’ll use one of the other closets.  I’m going back to work on the studio layout.”

Arthur watched him walk away and frowned.  He was about to go after him when his cell phone rang.

++++++++++

Ariadne listened to the phone ring, twirling a pen around her fingers as she waited for Arthur to answer.

“Good morning, Ariadne.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I was up, just drinking my coffee.”

“Great.  Look, I got an offer for a dreamshare job, but I’ve never worked with these people and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Sure, run it by me.”

They had been talking for several minutes, discussing the other people involved in her potential job, when Arthur trailed off mid-sentence amid noises that sounded like cabinets opening and closing in the background.

“Ari, wait a second for me, okay?” Arthur asked after the noises stopped.  She could hear the faint sound of footsteps on hardwood floor and assumed Arthur was walking through his house.

There was a rustling sound in her ear as the phone shifted and she heard Arthur speaking, but muffled somewhat.

“Eames, don’t you dare use that on the furniture.  I actually have tools for that, you know.”

_ Eames? _

“I’m serious.  The tools are downstairs.  Go get them if you are going to take the bed apart.”

Ariadne’s eyebrows rose to her hairline as she continued to listen.

“That furniture is expensive, Eames.”

She could hear muttered responses in the background, and she assumed the voice she heard was Eames as he responded to Arthur.  The phone rustled again and Arthur was back.

“I’m sorry, Ariadne, bear with me just another minute while I deal with him, okay?”

She didn’t have a chance to respond before he apparently pulled the phone away again.

“I swear to you, Eames, if you scar the wood with that knife I am going to kick your ass.”

She heard the  _ thunk _ of an impact.

“I’ll kick your ass even harder if that just damaged the floor.”

Eames must have moved closer to Arthur because she could just make out his response.

“Darling, you know giving me  _ that look _ and being forceful is not the way to get me to behave.”

There was more rustling noises and she heard one of them gasp loudly, then Arthur was back.

“Ari, I’ll have to call you back,” he said in a strangled voice and the phone disconnected.  She pulled it away from her ear and stared at it.

_ What the ever lovin’ hell? _

++++++++++

Arthur dropped the phone on the floor and sagged back against the doorframe, staring down in wonder at Eames on his knees in front of him.  Eames had smirked at him and dropped to the ground and started mouthing Arthur’s cock through his jeans.

“Fuck.”

“Just a blowjob for now, love, but we can fuck later,” Eames replied as he opened Arthur’s pants and worked them down under the curve of his ass, baring him to view.

Arthur’s lifted his hand and slid his fingers into Eames’ hair as his mouth closed around the head of Arthur’s dick.  Arthur’s breath stuttered and his grip tightened on Eames’ scalp, making Eames moan around Arthur.

Arthur tipped his hips forward slowly, his length sliding along Eames’ tongue and back out as he withdrew.  Eames wrapped one arm around Arthur’s thighs and grabbed the door frame with his free hand, then nodded up at Arthur.

He waited until Eames had angled his head the right way and then began thrusting rhythmically past Eames’ lips, fucking his mouth in earnest.

“You’re indescribable like this, Eames,” Arthur whispered harshly, his voice catching in his throat when Eames responded by slipping a finger along Arthur’s ass to tease softly as his hole.

“Yes,  _ yes _ …”

Eames pressed the finger inside of Arthur just as Arthur’s hips snapped forward on a thrust and Eames did  _ something _ with his tongue and gave a little sucking pressure.

Arthur’s head hit the wall with enough force to make him see stars and he let go of Eames’ hair to grab the door behind him.  His orgasm took him by surprise, ripped him apart at the edges, and  _ fuck _ , but only Eames had ever been able to make him peak that fast.  Eames held him up by his thighs, still sucking at Arthur’s cock until Arthur whimpered and pulled away.

“Jesus… Eames, that was…” Arthur muttered as he slid down the wall and collapsed into Eames’ lap.  Eames smirked at him, his lips swollen and cherry red, and Arthur leaned in and licked the side of Eames’ mouth to clean up a stray bit of cum that he hadn’t swallowed.

He shifted his lips to Eames’ and let their tongues tangle in a kiss made all the filthier by the taste of Arthur still lingering there.  Eventually he pulled back and sagged against the wall, a sated smile on his face.

“I love seeing you like this, love.  Completely undone and relaxed,” Eames commented, his voice rasping heavily from the abuse to the back of his throat.

“Mmhmm,” Arthur agreed and shifted so that he was leaning back against Eames’ chest.  Eames kissed him on the jaw and splayed his hand across Arthur’s still bare stomach.

“As much as I would like to continue this fun and make you completely boneless, you should probably call Ariadne back before she assumes the worst and calls the police to check on us,” Eames added.

“Tonight it will be my turn to render you speechless,” Arthur promised and stood on trembling legs to fix his clothes.  After he was redressed he turned to Eames.

“And I meant it.  I have tools downstairs for this kind of thing.  Use them.”

“Yes, dear.  I’ll go get them,” Eames agreed and disappeared down the hall.  Arthur grabbed his phone and dialed Ariadne’s number as he wandered back into the living room.

“So why exactly is Eames dismantling a bed?” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“To take it out of the room.”

“Why is he taking it out of the room?”

“He’s setting up a studio and needs the space.”

“Where is he setting up this studio?”

“In one of the spare bedrooms, obviously.”

“In your house?”

“Yes.”

They were both silent for a few minutes before she spoke again.

“This is like  _ pulling teeth _ , Arthur.   _ Why _ is he setting up a studio in your house?” she asked, her tone frustrated.

“Because he lives here now.  He let me have an office in his house, so it was only fair to let him have a studio here.”

“So you two are… dating?”

Arthur paused to consider that and then laughed.

“No… no, I think we skipped that step, actually.”

“I… really don’t know what to say.”

“Some days I feel the same way,” Arthur agreed.  He steered her back into their earlier discussion about her potential coworkers and got off the phone as soon as he could.

“I’m going to fix something to eat,” he called down the hallway and started digging through the kitchen cabinets.

++++++++++

Ten minutes after Arthur shouted down the hall, Eames made his way to the kitchen where Arthur was laying out things to make sandwiches.

“Nan must have had one of the girls come by with some groceries,” Arthur commented as Eames walked in.  Before he could respond, Arthur’s phone rang again.  He checked the screen and held it out to Eames.

“You get to handle this one,” he said.  Eames peeked at it and shook his head when he saw  _ Dom _ on the screen.

“Dom is your friend, darling, so you get the honors,” he argued.

“But I told Ari!”

The phone stopped ringing.

“And I’ll tell Yusuf.”

“Well that’s not fair, you get the easiest one,” Arthur pointed out.

The phone began ringing again.

“I would have gladly told Ariadne, but she called you,” Eames countered.

“Completely beside the point,” Arthur huffed.

Silence reigned again as the phone stopped a second time.

They both stared at it, lying there on the counter, knowing it would ring again.  Sure enough, it started a moment later.  Neither of them answered, and this time after the ringing stopped the phone beeped that there was a message.  Arthur sighed and called what was apparently his voicemail, because a recording of Dom’s voice began playing over the speakerphone.

_ I know you are there, and I know you’re avoiding the call.  I’m going to call back again in five minutes, Arthur, and you  _ **_better answer_ ** _! _

Arthur sent him a beseeching look, but Eames shook his head, resolute.

“Not a chance.  He likes you more than me, so if he is planning to throw a fit for any reason, you can handle him better than I can,” Eames said.

“Fine,” Arthur replied petulantly and called Dom.  Eames settled on a chair at the kitchen counter and shamelessly eavesdropped on Arthur’s end of the conversation.

“Hello, Dom... Yes, I was avoiding you… No, I’m not sorry… I’m sure I know exactly why you are calling… Considering the timing of your call I would say you found out from Ariadne… I wasn’t keeping anything a secret… Yes, I really did leave LA for a job… I wasn’t lying to you … It just sort of happened.  He lived here for a month, you know, that’s a lot of time spent together… I didn’t tell you we were dating because at the time we weren’t… Only a month now, officially… I was going to tell you… We were in London, and we were a bit preoccupied… We just got back to Chicago yesterday… No, I’m not being bribed… No, it’s not blackmail either… No, it’s not the sex… Okay, so it’s not  _ only _ the sex… Yes, the sex is that good… Seriously, it’s amazing… Then don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to… No, I’m not going to call Saito and  _ tell him the happy news _ … I know we almost died together, but I haven’t spoken to him since then.  It would be very awkward to call him up and say  _ Hi, sorry I didn’t stay in touch, Eames and I are together now and I just thought you should know _ … Well, if you talk to him regularly, then you tell him… Yes… No… I’ll tell him you said so… Bye, Dom.”

Arthur turned the phone off and fell across the counter with a heavy sigh.

“Dom says hi.”

Eames reached over and massaged Arthur’s scalp lightly, brushing his fingers down and across his shoulders until Arthur shifted closer and draped himself over Eames’ back.

“You absolutely get to tell Yusuf,” he whispered.

“Deal,” Eames replied.

“I’ll bring you a sandwich, if you want to get back to work,” Arthur offered.

“Yes, yes, I’ll get out of your way.”

Eames was still fighting with the bed frame,  _ and losing _ , when Arthur brought a plate of food in and sat it on the dresser.  He kissed Eames on the back of the head as he walked back out.  Eames took a break to eat, staring at the partially dismantled bed and fighting a desperate urge to just shove it out a window.

Eventually he had the furniture taken apart and was ready to move it to storage on the floor below.  He looked around at all the pieces and decided that it was time that Arthur got a little dirty, too.

“Darling, can you come help me move this stuff?” he hollered down the hall, waited, and there was only silence in response to his call.

He wandered through the house, checking each room and the patio and couldn’t find Arthur.  He started back down the hall and noticed a light on in Arthur’s closet.  He walked in and stopped short in the doorway, surprised at what he found.

Arthur was hanging up Eames’ clothes…  _ in his closet _ … in the empty space he had created by  _ moving his own clothes _ .

“I was wrong.  Armageddon has begun,” Eames quipped and Arthur pointedly ignored him as he continued hanging shirts.  Eames stepped behind Arthur and wrapped his arms around his waist, grabbing the hanger in Arthur’s hands and forcing him to stop.

“Thank you, love,” he whispered and nuzzled against the side of Arthur’s neck.

“You’re welcome,” Arthur replied as he relaxed in Eames’ arms and smiled slightly.

“What changed your mind?” Eames asked.

“Your reasoning for sharing this closet was sound logic,” Arthur replied with a shrug.  Eames chuckled and shook his head.

“Sound logic has never stopped you from standing your ground before.”

Arthur froze in his embrace and looked away from Eames, his gaze dropping to the floor.  After a moment’s pause he softly replied, “This is the kind of thing you do for someone you love, right?”

Eames’ heart fluttered in his chest and he squeezed Arthur tighter, his expression brightening into a huge grin.

“And here I figured I would be the first to say it, knowing you and your non-emotions,” Eames responded, knowing it would draw a response from Arthur.

“I have emotions,” Arthur huffed and tried to pull out of Eames’ grasp.

“You keep them so well hidden that one wouldn’t be surprised to find that you don’t, in fact, have them,” Eames continued to tease and Arthur twisted in his arms so they faced each other.

“I let you see them,” he pointed out and Eames’ smile grew fonder.

“Yes, you do.”

Arthur pressed forward and kissed him, sweet and lingering, his expression more vulnerable and questioning than he usually let Eames see.

“I love you, too, Arthur,” he whispered into the kiss and Arthur leaned back to smile at him, open and happy.

“Now, come help me move this furniture and then we’ll come back here and clear out more space for my clothes.”

Arthur’s smile faded quickly.

“This is plenty of space for your clothes.  I’m not getting rid of anything, and I am not squeezing them in any more than they are, or they will forever be hopelessly wrinkled,” he stated firmly.  Eames just smiled and took his hand to pull him down the hall, listening to Arthur rant about the closet as they went.


	8. 1-2 Crush On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur _really_ likes it when Eames speaks Italian...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, set after Four Horsemen

"Go ahead and place the order and we'll pick it up on the way... yes... okay, we'll see you tomorrow then," Arthur said and then put his cell phone down on the counter.

"Are we playing gopher for the old gal?" Eames asked.

"She needs us to pick up the meat for the cookout tomorrow."

"Ah yes, the Fourth of July get together,” Eames said sarcastically.

"Don’t think I can’t hear that tone.  I thought you were looking forward to seeing everyone," Arthur pointed out and Eames laughed.

"I am, darling, I promise.  But you do realize that there is something inherently wrong with me participating in a celebration of you Yank's independence, right?"

"I guess it's good that you make a habit of doing wrong things, then," Arthur replied with a grin.

++++++++++

"This has been the family favorite for how long?" Eames asked as they were driving to Moretti’s Meat Market.

"Three generations.  The families have been friends since the old country," Arthur explained as he pulled his truck into the parking lot.  His phone vibrated in his pocket as he was getting out of the car.  He stopped on the sidewalk and checked it to find a message from a potential client.

"I need to call this guy back; will you go in and get the order?  It's under Nan's name," Arthur asked and Eames nodded.

"Sure, be back in a tick."

Arthur stood in front of the market and called his client back while Eames went inside.  Several minutes later, as he was wrapping up his call, he realized that he could hear yelling coming from inside the store.  Arthur slipped his phone in his pocket as he pushed open the door.

He immediately registered three things – one, that Eames and Tony, the owner, were both leaning across the counter towards each other, somehow involved in an intense argument in the short time that Arthur had been outside on the phone; two, they were yelling in Italian; three,  _ fuck _ that was one of the hottest things that Arthur had ever heard.  The sound of Eames’ spitting out angry Italian sent spikes of want straight to Arthur’s dick.

Arthur could only understand about half of what was being said, but his libido didn’t seem to care about the translation anyway.

“Stupido culo Inglese!”

“In primo luogo sono un bugiardo, ora un asino?”  Eames tone was incredulous.

“Siete entrambi!”  Tony threw his hands up in the air as he replied.

“Perché dovrei affermare di essere di quella famiglia se non sono, deficiente?”

Arthur had never noticed a particular love of languages in the past but something about those foreign sounds coming from Eames, the way his lips shaped the syllables, was enough to make Arthur want to fuck him right up against the meat case, health codes be damned.

"What the  _ fuck _ is going on here?" Arthur yelled to interrupt them, and both men froze and turned towards him with sheepish expressions.

"Signore Arthur!  I'm so sorry that you had to witness such a thing.  This man was just leaving," Tony replied and shot a glare at Eames.

"I'm not going anywhere," Eames replied and turned as Arthur walked over.

"This man dared to claim that he was here for Signora Nicolosi’s order," Tony said.

"He is," Arthur stated bluntly.  Tony's mouth fell open and Eames looked triumphant.

"But... I..." Tony stammered.

"Eames, allow me to introduce Antino Moretti, the owner.  Tony, my  _ boyfriend _ , Eames."

"Signore Arthur... I didn't know.  Signora said you would be picking up the order.  I..."

"It's okay, Tony.  I had to make a call and I asked him to come in.  It didn’t occur to me that it would be a problem, but I'm sure now that it's cleared up, you'll both want to apologize to each other," Arthur prompted and gave Eames a look that dared him to disagree.  Eames sighed and nodded, then held his hand out to Tony.

"My sincerest apologies for not believing you, and for insulting you," Tony said as he shook his hand.

"I certainly could have reacted better, so my apologies as well," Eames replied.

"I'll get the order," Tony told them and scurried towards the back room.

"You’re not in the habit of arguing with total strangers, so what the hell was that all about?" Arthur asked.

"He didn't believe that I knew Nan and said a few  _ very _ rude things in Italian, not realizing I could understand him.  I responded… and it was downhill quick from there," Eames explained.

Arthur remembered Eames cussing at Tony as he came in and felt a fresh wave of lust roll through him.  He  _ needed _ to get Eames out of here and somewhere private - or at least semi-private - and  _ quick _ .

Tony came back with the order, wrapped up and bagged, and passed it over the counter to Arthur.

"Again, I'm so sorry for this, Arthur, I..."

"Don't worry about it, Tony.  Misunderstandings happen.  It's not even worth mentioning to Nan, right?" he replied with a pointed glance at them, and Eames and Tony both nodded in reply.

"Great.  Well, we need to dash," Arthur said and headed towards the door.

"Have a good day!" Tony called out to them as the door closed.  Arthur stashed the food in the back and climbed into the driver's seat, his mind going over his options.

He wanted Eames, and wanted him now.  He could ignore it and deal with being at least semi-hard for most of the day, since he knew that he would be hearing Eames speaking Italian throughout the rest of the day and that was only going to keep teasing Arthur.  They could go home and then head to the cookout late, but that wouldn't work because they had the food.  Or he could find a parking lot or something somewhere and deal with this now… and then later when they were home he could fuck Eames properly.

_ Parking lot it is. _

He started the truck and pulled quickly onto the main road.  He drove up the street, eyes darting side to side, looking down cross streets and trying to find somewhere he could pull off.

Finally they passed an abandoned warehouse area and Arthur drove the truck to the far corner of an empty parking lot.

"What are we doing here, Arthur?"

Arthur didn't reply, just parked the truck and unfastened his seatbelt.  He shimmied and wiggled until he had his legs over the center console, then twisted so he was kneeling across Eames' lap.

"Umm, pet, I..."

Arthur grabbed the seat controls and slid the seat towards the rear and dropped the back as far as it would go.  Arthur unfastened his pants and pushed them far enough out of the way to bare his hard cock, then shifted his feet back into the floorboard so that he was laying stretched out over Eames, their bodies touching from almost ankle to shoulder.

"I'm not complaining, darling, but care to tell me what brought this on?" Eames asked as he helped Arthur fumble with Eames' jeans and get them open.

"You... the Italian...  _ so fucking hot _ ..." Arthur muttered.

"Oh?" Eames wondered and Arthur could see when he understood because of the mischievous look that crossed his face.

"I'll have to remember that for the future," Eames promised as Arthur got his hand wrapped about both their cocks.  Eames slipped one hand down to join Arthur's, their fingers twined around the lengths.

They moved their hands in tandem, skin slicked only by spit they had used to moisten their palms.  Arthur leaned down to bite and lick along Eames' collarbone as he jacked both their cocks.  Eames hissed and leaned into the touch, leaving his own teeth marks on Arthur's shoulder.

"No one should be that attractive when pissed off and arguing in a language I don't fully understand," Arthur pointed out and Eames chuckled and twisted his fingers around the head of Arthur's erection.

Arthur's breath was growing ragged and he could feel his stomach beginning to tighten as his orgasm built.  Eames reached up his free hand and pulled Arthur down so his ear was to Eames' lips.

"If you like the Italian, you should hear me when I fight in Russian," he whispered and then ran his tongue along Arthur's neck.

Arthur had a brief, perfectly clear mental soundtrack of Eames' voice sounding out the guttural tones of Russian and it was enough to push him over the edge.  He came over their hands, coating both their stomachs in stickiness as his hips stuttered thrusts between them.  He looped his thumb and forefinger around the head of Eames' cock and twisted  _ just so _ to draw a cry from Eames as he arched under Arthur, his come splattering between them, too.

Arthur held his weight up with his free hand, his chest heaving against Eames' as they both tried to catch their breath.  Finally he lifted his head and motioned towards the console.

"There are tissues and wet wipes in there."

Eames dug around in the compartment until he found the packages.  He wiped Arthur's hand off first, then Arthur pushed himself further up so that he could clean his stomach and fasten his pants.  He helped Eames clean off, then climbed gingerly over the console as Eames straightened his clothes.  Arthur settled back in his own seat and then looked over at Eames, who was still leaned back on the passenger side, his eyes closed and his lips parted in a satisfied smile.

"Is this a standard part of your independence celebrations, pet?"

"Is it typical for you to argue in foreign languages?"

"If this is going to be the outcome, I believe I could make a habit of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> ~ Seriously, EVERY TIME I do this section I type “Arthur Notes” at first and have to change it – EVERY SINGLE TIME
> 
> ~ Italian translations for Eames’ little tiff with Tony, keeping in mind this only includes what Arthur heard, as it is his POV – I should note that what I do for the translations is use multiple sites online and find an English sentence that all the site agree with on the translation to Italian, then use that. I figure if multiple sites agree then it is more likely to be accurate. If it is NOT accurate, and you know the correct translation, feel free to let me know!
> 
> Tony - Stupido culo Inglese! = Stupid English ass!
> 
> Eames - In primo luogo sono un bugiardo, ora un asino? = First I'm a liar, now an ass?
> 
> Tony - Siete entrambi! = You are both!
> 
> Eames - Perché dovrei affermare di essere di quella famiglia se non sono, deficiente? = Why would I claim to be from that family if I'm not, you moron?


	9. Wrong'em Boyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All relationships have their ups and downs...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, a few months after 1-2 Crush On You

“Hello, Dom,” Arthur answered his cell as he was packing a suitcase for London.

“Arthur, how are you?”

“Doing fine.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I haven’t talked to you in about a month, just wanted to see how things are going.  How is Eames behaving these days?”

“As far as I know, he is behaving fine, but you really can never tell with him.”

“As far as you know?  Aren’t you two still attached at the hip?”

Arthur frowned and dropped his toiletry kit in his bag.

“We aren’t attached at the hip.”

“Really?  I’d be surprised if he isn’t sitting right there beside you right now.”

“Actually, he isn’t.”

“Oh?”

“He’s in London, left about a week ago for a job.”

“And you’re in Chicago?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“What do you mean, how long?”

“I mean, if Eames left a week ago, how long until you join him?”

Arthur looked down at his half-packed suitcase and remained silent.

“Let me guess... you’re packing now, aren’t you?”

“So what if I am?”

“Nothing, just making a point.”

“And what point would that be, Cobb?”

“Don’t get all bent out of shape, Arthur, it’s just that I haven’t called you a single time in the last, what, five, six months since you two got together and not heard Eames in the background.  Neither of you have taken any dreamshare jobs in time, and as far as I can tell you’ve just been going back and forth between each other’s homes for months.”

“You apparently have too much time on your hands if you are tracking me that closely, and I’m still not seeing your point.”  Arthur clenched his teeth and ran a hand through his hair, agitated by the conversation.

“If I told you I have a referral for a dreamshare job that needs a point man, that it starts next week, what would you say?”

Arthur was silent for several breaths before he finally answered, his voice tight.

“I would say that I have a security job I’m about to start on.”

“And yet you are going to join Eames.”

“I can work on security plans just as easily at his house as at mine.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t get mad at me.”

“Do you have a problem with my relationship with Eames or something?”

“I like him, you know that... I’m just not sure he’s right for you.  You two never got along that well before, so I’m leery of what his angle is.”

“There is no angle.  I may have disliked him at first, but over the years working together I learned to tolerate and respect him, and while working on his job I actually got to know him.”

“I just don’t want you to lose yourself in this, Arthur.  It’s easy to let yourself change in a relationship, especially someone larger than life like Eames tends to be.”

“I’m not losing myself in anything.”

“Okay, okay... forget I mentioned it.”

“Fine.  I need to finish packing and get to the airport.”

“Alright, Arthur.  Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Arthur made it his flight on time and settled into his seat, trying to ignore the anxiety he felt.  He told himself it was because he was looking forward to seeing Eames, but he couldn’t quite shake Dom’s warning from the back of his mind.

++++++++++

Arthur had been in London for a few days when an overnight package arrived with information on the security job he had agreed to do.  The client was a senator that Arthur owed a favor; the senator was going to South America to speak with government officials there about new plans to work together against the drug cartels.  He was concerned about a leak in his office, so he wanted Arthur to go over the security detail and create backup plans for whatever he could think of that might go wrong.

Eames was finishing up a documents forging job he was working on, so Arthur took the plans up to his office and spread them out on a drafting table he had moved in there when they first got together.  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Eames came in and pressed up against his back, one arm snaking around Arthur’s waist as he looked over Arthur’s shoulder.  Arthur leaned back into the touch, relishing the warmth, until Eames spoke.

“You should mark that alley there, love,” Eames said as he pointed to a spot on the street map Arthur was noting.  Arthur stiffened and pulled away slightly, Dom’s voice coming unbidden to his mind.

_ It’s like you two can’t do anything without each other anymore. _

Arthur pushed the thought aside; it wasn’t even something Dom had said... just implied.

“And over here, that roof top should be covered, too,” Eames added, leaning around Arthur and grabbing a pen.  Arthur stepped away completely and snatched the pen from Eames’ hand before he could mark anything.

“I don’t come down to the studio and tell you how to paint, so why don’t you spare me the peanut gallery comments and let me do my job,” he said snidely as he leaned over his papers again.  Eames didn’t respond, just stood there silently for a few minutes.  Arthur stared resolutely at the map and finally Eames pressed a feather-light kiss to Arthur’s shoulder and moved towards the door, where Arthur heard him pause.

“I’m going to make some lunch, pet.  I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” Eames said, and Arthur steeled himself against the undercurrent of hurt and confusion in Eames’ tone.  He gave a short nod in response and listened to Eames walk down the stairs.  Arthur slumped forward against the table and buried his fingers in his hair.

_ What the fuck is wrong with me? _

He heard Eames call up the stairs about an hour later and put down his marker with a sigh.  He made his way to the kitchen and stepped in close behind Eames where he was dishing up some kind of stew.  Arthur wrapped both arms around Eames’ waist and pressed his face into the curve of his neck.  He kissed Eames below the ear and tightened his hold.

It was the closest that Arthur felt he could get to an apology at the moment, but it must have been enough because Eames turned slightly in his embrace and returned the kiss.  The tenseness left Eames’ expression and Arthur felt his own shoulders relax a little.

Dinner passed easily, their conversation normal and neither of them mentioning what had happened upstairs.

++++++++++

Two more days passed without any discussion of their little  _ spat _ , but Arthur still wasn’t able to shake the unease that had been growing in him since Dom’s call.

They decided to head up the street to the pub for a few drinks and a game of pool.  It was a pub they frequented when in London, so the employees and regulars knew Eames and were getting to know Arthur.

It was fairly busy that night, so they wound their way towards the bar, Eames ahead and leading Arthur by his hand.  They had actually held hands the latter part of the walk there, a sign of public affection that thrilled Arthur, and Eames hadn’t let go yet.  Contrary to what many people thought, Arthur loved physical contact... if it was with someone he cared about.

When they had almost reached the bar, Eames stopped suddenly and Arthur almost ran into him.  He looked up to ask what was wrong, but Eames was focused on someone further down the bar.  Then a voice rang out from that direction.

“Marcus Williams?  Fuck, man, how’ve you been?”

“Brandon!  I thought that was you!” Eames yelled back and let go of Arthur’s hand as the tall, older blond man pushed over from the bar and grabbed Eames in a hug.

“Haven’t seen you in years, Marcus,” Brandon said as he stepped back.  His eyes flicked towards Arthur and Eames glanced over his shoulder.

“Arthur, this mountain of a man used to work for my father at the stables.  Brandon, my friend Arthur,” Eames introduced them, and Arthur hesitated briefly in holding his hand out in greeting.

_ My friend? _ he thought as Brandon said hello and shook his hand.

Brandon led the way back to the corner of the bar that he had claimed, and Eames followed without looking at Arthur.  After a moment, Arthur pushed through the crowd and shoved his way between Eames and the wall.  He turned so he was facing Eames and stepped in close.  He had just lifted his hand to rest it on Eames’ back when Eames shifted away, leaning in to talk to Brandon.

Arthur ordered a drink and leaned back against the wall, watching as Brandon and Eames spoke animatedly as they caught up.  Each time Arthur tried to be closer to Eames, he was barely acknowledged.

Lean into Eames’ personal space, Eames shifted away.

Angle his legs onto Eames’ barstool so that their feet were crossed together, Eames flashed the briefest grin and twisted his feet to the other side.

Rest his palm on Eames’ sleeve, Eames patted the top of his hand and then used that arm to lift his glass, dislodging Arthur’s hold.

_ Look how easily he turns away from you. _

_ He introduced you as his ‘friend’, for fucks sake. _

_ Normally he would be all over you after the number of drinks he’s had, lord knows the regulars here are used to seeing it; he’s never been shy about touching you when he’s on familiar ground. _

Arthur gave up trying to insinuate himself into Eames’ sphere, stopped listening to the conversation, and just sat on his stool, staring into his glass.  Finally, Eames stood to leave, turning to look at Arthur for the first time since about two drinks ago.  Arthur went through the motions with Brandon  _ yes, so nice to meet you, surely we’ll see each other again, enjoy the rest of your evening _ .

Arthur shoved his hands in his coat pockets and went outside ahead of Eames, not bothering to wait while he said his final goodbyes.

_ You’re too invested in this, Arthur.  You’re giving too much of yourself too fast.  Eames is charming and charismatic and used to getting what he wants.  Don’t let him con you in this relationship.  Don’t let yourself become the one that can’t live without him.  You’ve always kept your own life in your past relationships, you never gave yourself over like this, _ Dom’s voice whispered in his mind.

_ And look how well those worked out _ , Arthur thought wryly.

_ But at least when they ended, it didn’t hurt, _ came the reply.

Arthur looked up to realize that he had walked halfway back to the house without Eames.  He glanced over his shoulder and could see Eames further back along the sidewalk where he had stopped and was talking to someone Arthur didn't recognize.

_ And again, he isn't thinking of you, not trying to catch up, just taking his time and chatting with strangers. _

Arthur continued on to the townhouse and let himself in with his key.  He went straight up to the bedroom and pulled his bag out from under the bed where he usually stashed it.  He began gathering up his belongings and stuffing them into the bag.  He had finished pushing his shaving kit in there and was on his way up to his office for his work when he heard Eames come in the front door.  Arthur and Eames made it back to the bedroom at the same time.

"What's this?" Eames asked and motioned to the bag.

"I'm leaving."

"So I gathered.  Why?"

"Is your friend Brandon an old flame?" Arthur asked as he folded his maps into his bag.

"What?  No, of course not!"

"Is he homophobic?"

"Not that I know of.  Arthur, what is this?"

"Would he react badly to us for any other reason?" Arthur continued as he put his laptop on top of his clothes.

"I can't think of any reason why."

"Then you had no reason to introduce me as your  _ friend _ ," Arthur replied as he zipped his suitcase closed.  Eames was quiet for a moment, then chuckled.

"Is that what this is all about?  Arthur... I didn’t really think about it," Eames said, smiling easily as he reached out, but Arthur sidestepped his grasp.

"Obviously.  Maybe you should have."

"You're really upset about that, are you?  That's just... that's silly, darling."

"That's not all that bothered me tonight, but since it's so  _ silly _ , there's no point continuing this conversation," Arthur said as he stepped around Eames.

"Arthur, I..."

"I'm checking into a hotel for the night, and I'll be catching a flight out tomorrow."

"You're really willing to leave over this?" Eames asked, incredulous and shaking his head.  Arthur looked at him finally, not bothering to hide the anger in his glare.  He opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it and just shook his head and walked down the stairs.

"Fine, you want to act like a child, you go right ahead and leave!" Eames yelled down the stairs.  Arthur sighed and continued on to the front door.  He paused there, listening, but couldn't hear any movement on the stairs.  He opened the door and left, letting it click quietly closed behind him.

++++++++++

Arthur woke the next morning and immediately checked his cell phone.

No missed calls.

Time to go home.

++++++++++

Arthur hadn't been to Colombia in several years, but Bogota looked the same as he remembered it, at least the parts he saw.  The senator had called in his favor to the fullest by asking that Arthur come with him on the trip.  The original request had only been for Arthur to make plans, but the senator was paranoid and had convinced himself the suspected leak was within his own security detail, so he wanted someone from outside there to keep an eye on him.

Arthur only agreed because he  _ really _ owed the senator for past help.  So he found himself sitting in the front passenger seat of a bulletproof SUV as they drove through the city from the US Embassy to a meeting near the capitol building.  Arthur was in the country under an assumed name, a courtesy the senator had set up and cleared through official channels.  He had no interest in making himself a target of Colombian drug lords, so when he left the embassy building he wore black military fatigues and body armor, complete with a mask to hide his face.  He was armed, in multiple ways, and the whole thing reminded him a little too much of his military days for his own comfort.

The drive went smoothly and Arthur spent the meeting standing just inside the door of the conference room with other security personnel.  When the meeting was over, Arthur led the senator down to the lobby, calling ahead on the radio for the driver to pull the truck to the door.  They made it to the lobby, out the doors and were on their way across the cobblestones to the truck when all hell broke loose.

Gunfire echoed through the plaza and Arthur dove behind a pillar and pulled the senator down with him.  He was flanked by Secret Service officers and they had the senator circled between them and the column for protection.  Arthur leaned out and scanned the area quickly, noting the gunmen who had the high ground and the few men crouched behind a large fountain in the courtyard.  The truck was stuck on the far side of the area, and Arthur decided it was too risky.  Bullets were taking chunks out of the concrete around them, but none of the shooters had the right angle on them, so they were temporarily safe.

The attackers were all wearing the jungle fatigues favored by the cartel soldiers.  Arthur glanced at his watch, noting the time and wondering how long it would take for Colombian security to get involved.

"To the left is an alley, do you see it?" Arthur said into his radio and both agents peeked around the pillar and nodded.

"When I give the signal, I want the men in the truck to start firing at the rooftops, you two take the senator and make a run for the alley, I'll distract the guys by the fountain," he ordered and he heard affirmative responses in his ear piece.

"The alley isn't big enough for vehicles.  It's barely big enough for people.  If they have anyone at the other end, it shouldn't be more than one man.  Take him out and get in the red sedan parked one block up on the right.  You haul ass to the embassy and don't stop for anything, because that car isn't plated."

"What about you?" one of the agents asked.  Arthur looked at his watch again; still no additional help from the locals.  Either they were leaving the Americans to fend for themselves or someone in that building was in on the whole thing.

"Don't worry about me, just make sure the embassy guards know I might be coming in last," Arthur assured them as he leaned out far enough to sight on one of the men by the fountain.

He took a deep breath and thought,  _ You don't wake up from this, Arthur.  This isn't a dream, _ and pulled the trigger.

"Move now!" he yelled and stood up beside the pillar to make himself a more obvious target.  The truck windows rolled down and shots started ringing off the tops of the buildings.  The two agents with Arthur grabbed the senator and ran across to the alley, staying crouched and moving behind the other pillars for cover.

Arthur swung around behind the column and came out firing on the other side.  When he saw the agents and senator make it into the alley, he dove behind a nearby bench and started trying to make his way towards the truck.  Bullets rained down around him and he knew the truck was out of the question.

"Cover me until I get to the alley," he yelled into his radio.

"Roger that!" someone in the truck responded.

Arthur waited until he heard a fresh volley of gunshots from the area of the truck, then he jumped up and sprinted to the alley.  Just before he passed between the buildings he felt a sharp pain in his arm and chips of brick from the wall hitting his cheek.

"I'm clear, get the fuck out of there!"

"We’re going!"

Arthur noted the time again as he ran down the alley; the whole thing had taken minutes, but had felt much longer.  No one else had ever emerged from the building and Arthur was inclined to go with his second thought that they were involved with the cartels somehow.

He dodged to the left out of the alley as soon as he got to the next street.  He turned down another alley, left, right, left again, until he came out onto a mostly deserted street.  He slipped inside a shed and dug a key out of his pocket as he swung a leg over the motorcycle hidden there.  He rolled it slowly out the door, careful to check the streets again before he started the bike.

He made it back to the embassy without further incident and was relieved to find both the red sedan and the black SUV already in the garage when he parked the bike.  It wasn't until he was walking towards the elevator that he remembered the pain in his arm earlier.  He checked it to find the fabric torn and soaked with blood.  It looked like the bullet had just winged him, but he couldn't be sure until he got his shirt off.  The senator was waiting for him on the fourth floor when the elevator doors opened.  He took one look at Arthur's arm and motioned to one of the agents with him.

"We'll get the medic to look at that.  We're on a flight out first thing in the morning," the senator said.

"I told you that courtyard would be a problem.  I told you we needed to put men on the roofs there," Arthur reminded him.

"You knew we had limited resources for this thing," the senator replied.

"Don't call me again unless you’re going to make sure we do it my way.  You won't always be so lucky," Arthur pointed out and then followed the agent to a room where a Marine medic was waiting.

The wound was mostly superficial, though the bullet had taken a chunk out of his arm.  The medic cleaned it thoroughly and closed it with stitches.  After it was covered with a bandage, Arthur made his way to his room.  He stripped and showered, almost passing out against the tiles as his adrenaline wore off.  He collapsed on the bed, asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

His last thought before he was out completely was...  _ Eames _ .

++++++++++

Arthur was once again packing a bag a week later.  He'd flown back to Chicago with the senator and they’d had a long conversation on the plane about possible leaks and Arthur’s opinion that someone on the Colombian side of the meet was involved in the ambush.  Once home, he spent a few days resting and letting his arm heal.  As soon as the stitches came out, Arthur booked a flight to London.

It had been two weeks since he left London and all he wanted was to see Eames.

The night before his flight, he ate dinner on the patio, staring out over the city lights and listening to the wind as it whistled past the windows.  The hum of the noise was enough to drown out the sound of the elevator when it arrived at his floor and he didn't realize anyone was there until Eames stepped through the sliding doors and stopped, just staring at Arthur when he looked up.  Finally Eames cleared his throat and spoke.

"There's a packed bag sitting on your bed.  Going somewhere?" he asked.  Arthur stood up from the table and nodded.

"I was flying to London tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"I called you, many times."

"I was in South America.  I've only been back a few days, but my phone was damaged while I was gone and I just got it replaced yesterday."

"You went on the job?  I thought you were just consulting on it."

"I owed the client a favor and he called it in, wanted me there," Arthur replied with a shrug.  Eames took a step closer, then shifted back, an unusual uncertainty in his stance that was unnerving.  He stared out the window when he finally began to speak.

"I was wrong, Arthur.  I was wrong and I'm sorry.  I... when you left, I was angry at first and didn't want to..." Eames trailed off for a moment, then sighed before continuing, "I thought about that night in the pub and I realized what you were upset about.  You just have to understand that it wasn't intentional."

"I realize that now.  I should have talked to you about it instead of just leaving, but I was already on edge from... other things and that set me off."

Eames huffed out a harsh breath and suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Arthur in a fierce hug.  Arthur flinched at the impact on his arm and of course, Eames noticed.

"Are you hurt?" he asked and pulled at the sleeve of Arthur's t-shirt.  He spotted the jagged pink flesh of the healing scar and looked up at Arthur with his jaw clenched.

"You fucking went down there and got hurt?  What is this, knife?  Gunshot?"

"Gunshot, and it only grazed me."

"It could just as easily have killed you!  You shouldn’t have been anywhere near there when it went down!" Eames yelled, his hands tightened in fists at his sides.  Arthur stepped back with his own glare as his anxiety from two weeks before resurfaced.

“You don't get to call the fucking shots in my life!"

Eames had opened his mouth to retort, but he faltered and stared at Arthur in confusion.

"This was my job, and I made the decision to go.  This is one of the things I do and I'm good at it, and you aren't taking that away from me," Arthur added and Eames shook his head and reached for Arthur's hand, linking their fingers together.

"Darling... I'm not trying to take anything, or make any decisions for you.  But I love you and I have a right to be worried," Eames said softly as he pulled Arthur over to sit down on the couch.

"Now tell me what is really going on here.  This is about more than just the night at the pub, so what's the deal?" Eames asked.  Arthur rubbed his free hand over his face and slumped back into the cushions.

"Just before I came to London last time, Dom called me."  Eames just nodded and Arthur sighed and plunged ahead with his explanation.

"He was giving me shit about us always being together, how neither of us have been working, just spending time with each other.  He made comments about me losing myself in this.  Then the pub happened and..."

"And you panicked, thinking, what... that you were in this deeper than me?" Eames finished his sentence.  Arthur nodded, his cheeked flushed with embarrassment at how stupid the whole thing sounded when said out loud.

“At the time it seemed like you were putting this physical distance between us, moving away deliberately, like you didn’t need to be close to me like I needed to be close to you.”

“That wasn’t it at all.  It was louder than normal in the pub that night and I kept having to move closer to Brandon to hear him.   _ Christ _ , you know me, Arthur… I can’t keep my hands to myself with you.  If I wasn’t so possessive, and if it wouldn’t get us arrested, I would fuck you in the middle of Main Street just to show the world you’re mine.”

“I know, I know… I wasn’t really thinking clearly at the time,” Arthur paused a moment and stared down at where their fingers were tangled together, “You and Nan talk enough that I’m sure you’re familiar with my past relationships.”

“I know enough to understand why this thing with us could scare you,” Eames admitted, “But we both know you aren’t the type that will do something you don’t want to do, so you must have  _ wanted _ to spend time with me, right?”

“Of course.”

“And the only jobs we’ve turned down were ones we wouldn’t have done anyway.”

“True,” Arthur agreed.

“So despite the fact that I am seriously considering strangling Dom next time I see him, we should agree that his meddling was done with best intentions and all that rot, but his concerns are unfounded.”

Arthur hesitated a moment, then nodded in response.

"Arthur, I'm more invested in this than any relationship I've ever been in, and I have fears, too, but we can't let those decide our reactions to situations, all right?" Eames said and leaned in to pull Arthur closer, careful of his wounded arm.

"I'm an idiot sometimes."

"I know, darling."

"Ass," Arthur muttered and pinched Eames.

"And yet you still love me."

"No fucking clue why."

"Who else would have come here like this?" Eames asked, half joking and half serious.

"And who else would have been flying to London tomorrow?"

"Apparently we're both idiots, but it works for us," Eames said and Arthur smiled and leaned into him.

"That it does."


	10. Time Is Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Eames just want to spend their first Christmas actually, you know, _together_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, approx a month before Lose This Skin

**Dec 3rd**

“My mum called this morning.  One of my cousins is coming in for Christmas with his wife and their new baby and she wants me to come home to see them.  I would like you to come with me, if you want,” Eames asked as they were clearing the table from dinner.  Arthur tensed immediately.

“Oh.  Nan called this afternoon to let me know her grandson Freddy is coming in for Christmas.  He and I were close when we were little and he’s been working in South America and hasn’t been home in a few years.  I was going to see if you wanted to stay here with me,” Arthur replied with a frown.

They stared at each other over the dirty dishes for a few minutes until Eames finally shrugged and went back to cleaning.

“Well, I suppose we each have our own obligations,” he said and Arthur felt something clench in his chest.

“Yeah, I suppose we do.”  Arthur didn’t bother to disguise the disappointment in his voice, and it only made him feel marginally better when Eames kissed his neck as he walked by towards the sink.

++++++++++

**Dec 16th**

Arthur’s fingers twitched in his coat pockets and he wished that Eames had packed more than one bag for his flight, just so that Arthur would have something to do with his hands.  He hadn’t said much to Eames, but the truth was that he  _ hated _ the thought of them not spending their first Christmas together.  They’d made so much forward progress in their relationship, weathered some rough patches, and it somehow felt like a step backwards to be apart during the holidays.

“Don’t fret, love.  We’ll be back together soon,” Eames whispered as they stood in the check-in line.  Arthur’s lips twisted in a half-smile because o _ f course _ Eames would realize even without anything being said.

“This is not how I imagined Christmas.”

Eames pulled Arthur’s hand out of his pocket and linked their fingers together.

“We’ll have our own celebration after.”

Arthur sighed and nodded, knowing they would still have plenty of time, but disliking it all the same.  Eames' check-in was over in moments and they took their time moving towards the security checkpoint.  They stood there, neither wanting to say goodbye or make the first step towards leaving.

“Okay, just go.  This sucks, but we’ll live, right?” Arthur finally blurted out and Eames grinned ruefully.

“We will, darling.”  Eames dropped his bag to the ground and brought his hands up to bracket Arthur’s cheeks, pulling him close and kissing him.  It was slow and easy and they didn’t care about the people moving around them, huffing at the public display of affection.  When the kiss ended Arthur let his forehead rest on Eames’ and whispered, "Try not to do anything too stupid without me around, yeah?”

Eames laughed and picked up his bag.

“I’ll do my best.”

Arthur watched him as he made his way through the lines and into the terminal proper, his feet rooted to the hideous airport carpet until Eames was out of sight after a single pause at the corner to wave goodbye to Arthur over the crowd.

++++++++++

**Dec 20th**

"So, I went out with Freddy and the other guys last night, and took Freddy out for a long lunch today," Arthur told Eames during one of their nightly phone calls.

"And I spent all day yesterday with Zachary and his family," Eames replied.

"So we've spent time with them like our families wanted but still don't get to see each other for Christmas," Arthur added, and his agitation was apparent in his voice.

"It's only a few more days, Arthur."

Arthur didn't respond right away.  He stared out the window, his mind turning over ideas and considerations until...

"No.  Fuck this.  We're spending Christmas together.  I have a friend with a vacation condo in Toronto.  If it's available, I say we both catch flights, meet there and turn our phones off until after the holiday," he suggested.  Eames laughed and Arthur could picture the smile on his face.

"Pet, that is a fantastic idea.  How about we stay there into the new year?  I've got some connections at this hoity-toity nightclub there and I bet I can get us VIP entrance for New Year’s Eve," Eames said.

"I say that sounds like a plan.  I'll call on the condo and call you back."

++++++++++

**Dec 22nd**

Arthur paced the floor, checking his watch for the eighth time as he waited for Eames to arrive.  He had gotten to Toronto the night before and stocked the place for their stay.  Eames' flight had already landed and he was taking a cab from the airport.

Finally there was a knock at the door.  Arthur opened it and smiled at Eames.

"Hello, love," Eames greeted him and grabbed him into a fierce hug.  He walked Arthur back from the door and kicked it closed behind him, his bag abandoned on the floor just inside.  Arthur kissed him hungrily, his hands fisted in Eames' shirt.  He grumbled under his breath when Eames pulled away.

"I would like nothing more than to continue this lovely welcome, but the time zone change is having its way with me and I'm exhausted," he explained and Arthur grudgingly stepped back, smoothing the wrinkles he had put in Eames' clothes.

"Fine.  Bed then, but I  _ am _ going to ravage you tomorrow," Arthur promised and Eames nodded eagerly.

"Of course.  I wouldn't dream of denying you the pleasure."

++++++++++

**Dec 23rd**

Eames woke to faint sunlight coming in through a crack in the curtains and Arthur stretched out between his thighs, languidly licking his half-hard cock.

" _ Christ _ , Arthur,  _ what _ a wake-up call."

Arthur smiled up at him and took the length of his erection past his lips, letting it slide slowly over his tongue, sucking lightly.  Eames' hips came up of their own volition, lifting off the bed to push further into the heat of Arthur's mouth.  He was just reaching to touch him, his fingers just brushing Arthur's hair, as Arthur pulled away and slid up the bed to straddle Eames.

He settled his weight on Eames, their cocks pressed together as Eames pulled him down so their lips could meet.  Tongues tangled as Arthur shifted his weight slightly back and forth, creating just enough friction to make Eames moan into the kiss.

"It's not nice to tease, darling," Eames muttered against Arthur's kiss swollen lips, then nipped on the pinkened flesh hard enough to draw a gasp from Arthur, and Arthur's eyes darkened further at the challenging action.  The look he gave Eames sent a shiver down his spine.

"You know I don't tease,  _ darling _ ," Arthur replied and grabbed a condom off the nightstand.  He rolled it down Eames' length with one hand while he cradled Eames' jaw with the other.  Eames arched into the touch, biting at the inside of Arthur's wrist before laving the skin with his tongue.

Arthur claimed his mouth in a demanding kiss, sucking Eames' tongue into his mouth.  Eames almost didn't notice that Arthur had positioned himself and began pushing back onto Eames' cock, but at the first press of tightness around the head he grabbed Arthur's hips and stopped him.

"Don't you think some prep would be good, Arthur?"

Arthur smirked at him, and the complete smugness he exuded was so sexy that Eames decided it should be illegal, because it was sending flares of  _ wantrightnow _ to his cock.

"I got myself ready while you were still sleeping," Arthur admitted before biting Eames' pectoral.  His mind was immediately filled with an image of Arthur, lithe limbs contorted around his body as he slipped two, no  _ three _ , fingers in and out of his own ass and...  _ fuck _ ...

"Oh, that's  _ brilliant _ ," Eames breathed out and used the hands still at Arthur's waist to hold him steady as Eames thrust quickly past the pressure of Arthur's hole.  Arthur bowed upward with a cry at the sudden snap of hips that buried Eames' cock in his heat, Arthur's fingernails leaving half-moons in Eames' chest. 

"Yes," Arthur hissed and pushed back to meet Eames' thrusts as they set a rhythm.  Eames wrapped one hand around Arthur's cock and began jerking him off in time with their thrusts.

"Fuck, I missed you," Eames whispered and grabbed Arthur's shoulder to pull him down into another kiss, the movements of their lips quickly degenerating into a slick slide of skin as they panted into each other, their orgasms both building to a breaking point.

Arthur went first, crying out Eames' name as he came on his stomach, coating Eames' fingers in stickiness as he kept slip-sliding his hand along the length.  Eames followed a moment after, the clenching of Arthur's muscles all he needed to draw him over the edge with a guttural groan.

Arthur let his weight drop and Eames wrapped both arms around him, holding him close and kissing his temple as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Good morning," Arthur whispered in his ear and Eames laughed.

"Good doesn't quite cover it," he commented.  Arthur pushed himself up and off the bed.  He threw the condom away and wiped them both down with a wet cloth, then climbed back into bed beside Eames.

“I was thinking we could go out and see some of the sights today, then spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day holed up here in the condo,” Arthur suggested.

“That sounds good.  I want us to cook Christmas dinner here, so we’ll have to go by the grocers while we are out today,” Eames added.

“I bought groceries.”

“Ah, but I bet you didn’t get what I need to make a traditional English Christmas dinner,” Eames replied with a smile.

“Probably not.  Does that mean we have to get out of bed?”

“In a bit.”

They stayed in bed until mid-morning, finally dragging themselves from the warm cocoon of covers to get dressed and walk to the nearby grocery store.  After the food was put away they headed back out into the clear, cold day to catch a cab to the nearby Christmas Market.

“You realize that everything here is ridiculously overpriced, right?” Arthur asked an hour later as Eames was picking out a handmade ornament to send back to his mother as an apology for skipping out on the family gathering.

“It comes with the season.  Besides, it’s not about the money, it’s about us enjoying ourselves,” Eames replied.  They had been walking around the market looking at the booths of Christmas gifts and decorations, and this particular stand had caught Eames’ eye.

Arthur linked his arm with Eames’ and nuzzled his cold nose against Eames' ear as he paid for the ornament.

“I’m enjoying myself, overpriced fare and all,” Arthur admitted softly and Eames turned his head and kissed Arthur’s frozen nose.

“Let’s go get some mulled wine to thaw you out.”

Another hour later, stomachs full of a sampling of local foods and warm drinks, they continued their wanderings through the market.

“No, Eames, absolutely not.”

“But darling, it will be fun!”

“Eames, the Elves Workshop is for kids.”

“Let’s at least pet the reindeer.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m completely serious, Arthur.  You need to pet the reindeer.”

“Why do I let you talk me into this craziness?”

“Because you love me,” Eames replied with a cheeky grin and tugged Arthur along to the petting zoo.

Eames was indeed able to convince Arthur to pet the reindeer, and though his original intention in taking a picture of the event had been to embarrass Arthur by sending it to everyone they knew, when Eames saw the  _ not-so-well-hidden-as-Arthur-thought _ pleased grin on Arthur’s face, Eames decided to save the picture for himself.

++++++++++

**Dec 24th**

“I can’t believe you actually made Christmas pudding and lit it on fire in a borrowed condo,” Arthur muttered as he lay draped across Eames’ lap on the couch.

“Tradition, darling.”

“Luckily you have good fire management skills; otherwise I would be buying this place and have yet another property I rarely use.”

“I would have split the expense with you,” Eames replied as he sipped his eggnog, liberally spiked with brandy.

They had decided to ignore typical timing and eat Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve so that they could spend Christmas Day holed up in the condo being lazy together.  They had compromised on dinner by having glazed ham with carrots, partially to appeal to Arthur’s Christmas dinner sensibilities, but also because it was easier to cook than turkey.  But Eames had his way by making roasted potatoes using his family recipe and he had insisted on a Christmas pudding.

The sun was setting outside the window and they were relaxing on the couch enjoying their drinks.  Eames sat at one end, his feet propped up on an ottoman, while Arthur stretched out down the length of the sofa with his head on the arm rest by Eames’ elbow, his weight a pleasant warmth across Eames’ thighs.

The condo was in the Harbourfront neighborhood of Toronto and they had a fantastic view of Lake Ontario, where boats were lighting up with Christmas colors as the sun went down.  They were both drowsy from full stomachs and alcohol and the heat coming from the crackling fireplace.

Eames looked down at Arthur, smiling to himself at the way Arthur’s eyes kept slowly sliding closed, then he would catch himself and open them again.  Eames began trailing his fingers through Arthur’s hair, scratching his nails lightly along his scalp, and Arthur practically  _ purred _ and tilted his head into the touch.  He cracked his eyes open and met Eames’ gaze with a slow smile.

“Have I mentioned today that I love you?” Arthur asked.  Eames pretended to think about the question.

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think you have,” he answered.  Arthur reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of Eames’ neck and pulled him down, lifting himself part way to meet Eames in the middle.

“Love you,” he whispered and Eames grinned into the following kiss.

++++++++++

**Dec 25th**

“Wake up, love,” Eames sing-songed into Arthur’s ear.  Arthur grumbled and turned his head away.

“Come on, darling.  Santa’s been here,” Eames continued as he progressed to also poking Arthur in the side.

“He’s a ninja then, because I left the fire burning just to keep the fat bastard from making it down the chimney,” Arthur replied without bothering to open his eyes.

“Arthur, you wouldn’t hurt Santa!”  Eames reached out to poke him again and like a flash Arthur’s arm shot out from under the covers and he grabbed Eames’ wrist.

“Some guy in a red suit sneaks in through my fireplace, he’ll be lucky if all he gets is singed,” Arthur replied and rolled onto his back, opening his eyes and smiling as he tugged Eames down on top of him.

“Merry Christmas,” Eames said as he tucked Arthur’s loose hair behind his ear.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”  Arthur lifted Eames’ hand to his face and pressed a kiss to his palm, his tongue flicking across the skin and making Eames shiver.

“Mmmm, none of that just yet.  Gifts first,” Eames protested and tried to pull away.

“If you wanted to give me a gift you should have woken me up wearing nothing but a bow,” Arthur suggested with a leering look.

“I have a bow all picked out for later, but for now, the real gifts.”

Arthur sighed and let Eames go so he could push himself into a seated position against the headboard.  Eames went to his bag and rummaged around until he found a small flat box.

“While you’re up will you get that box that is in the end pocket of my bag?” Arthur asked and Eames soon came back to the bed with two packages.  He handed the smaller box to Arthur and looked at him expectantly.

“No, you open your box first,” Arthur said firmly and Eames set into ripping the paper off with child-like glee.  The box was thin, long and black and Eames quirked a brow at Arthur before flipping open the lid.  Nestled inside was a watch – black band, silver face with primary-colored dials and hands, and the name  _ Alain Silberstein _ under the twelve mark.

“Ohh…” Eames whispered, hands gentle as he lifted the watch from the black velvet.

“Do you like it?” Arthur asked, just a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Like it?  I bloody well  _ love _ it!  I’m a little surprised though; it isn’t at all to your tastes.”  Arthur shrugged and smiled shyly.

“It suits you, though, and that’s what matters.”

“I knew you secretly loved my fashion sense.”

“Don’t push your luck.  This watch doesn’t mean I don’t still want to burn that paisley atrocity hanging in my closet, contaminating my clothes.”

Eames grinned widely and leaned in to kiss Arthur, fierce and brief, before he sat back and motioned to Arthur’s package.  Arthur picked it up and shook it, but the faint rustling revealed nothing about its contents.  He ran his finger under the tape to free it and slipped the paper off.  The box was square and small.  He took the lid off to show a card lying on a bed of tissue, the paper heavy and expensive, with an embossed logo on the top, an HA in a diamond.  Arthur read the card… 

_ House of Hardy Amies _

_ Savile Row _

_ London _

 

_ One fully Bespoke suit _

_ made to recipients’ designations _

…and looked up at Eames, speechless for long enough that Eames began shifting nervously.

“This is…  _ Eames _ … this is fabulous.”

“You mentioned that you’d been trying to get in there for the last few years but were having trouble getting an appointment that worked with your jobs.  I figure you’re working a little less these days… plus my dad goes there and put in a good word for me with their scheduling people,” Eames explained.  Arthur trailed his finger along the edge of the cardstock, tracing the pattern and smiling.

“It’s perfect.”

“They have my credit card on file, so you just go in and pick out what you want,” Eames added as he slid forward on the bed until his hip was pressed against Arthur’s, “Might I recommend a three-piece suit?  You look positively edible in a waistcoat, darling.”

Arthur laid the card and box on the nightstand and shifted closer to Eames, his breath ghosting over Eames’ lips as he spoke.

“While we’re on the subject of looking edible, didn’t you mention something about a bow you were going to wear?”

++++++++++

**Dec 26th**

“Arthur,” Eames whined pleadingly, “Come on, it will be fun!”

“Do you even know how to ice skate?”

“Of course.  I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.”

“Fine, let’s go then,” Arthur agreed with a sigh.

An hour later found them at Natrel Pond, a local body of water that was used as an outdoor skating rink when it froze in the winter.

Another half hour after that Arthur was doubled over, laughing openly at Eames, who was glaring at him from the surface of the ice.

“I don’t see why this is so funny,” Eames grumbled.

“It’s funny because you assured me you knew how to skate, but you’ve spent more time on your ass than your feet since we got here,” Arthur explained.  Eames watched the other people sliding past him on the ice as he tried to get up, grudgingly taking Arthur’s hand in help.

“I can’t believe I’m being out-skated by five year olds.  It’s just not right.”

“Eames, this is Toronto.”

“So?”

“We’re in Canada.”

“I’m aware of that, Arthur.  Your point is?”

“My point is they practically bleed hockey pucks up here, especially in a town like this.  Most of these kids were probably on skates before they properly knew how to walk.”

“Doesn’t make my arse or my pride any less bruised to know that,” Eames complained.  Arthur leaned in closed and whispered against Eames’ ear.

“We can go home and I’ll kiss them both better.”

Eames’ eyes glazed over slightly and he immediately started making his way to the edge of the ice.

“I never really like ice skating anyway,” he called over his shoulder and Arthur laughed when Eames motioned impatiently for him to hurry up.

++++++++++

**Dec 27th**

The maitre d’ seated them immediately, their table against an outer window that gave them an unobstructed view of the city.  Arthur thought the 360 – he refused to use the pompous sounding full name of 360 The Restaurant at the CN Tower - might actually live up to the hype.

The restaurant was elegantly decorated, and at dinner time it was filled with people dressed nicely and spending too much money on their food and wine.  

_ Still _ , he thought as he looked across the semi-secluded table at Eames,  _ it’s a nice place for a romantic dinner _ .  His train of thought was interrupted by a waitress walking up to their table.

“Hi, I’m Mindi.  I’ll be your server tonight.”

Arthur could just  _ hear _ that her name ended in an ‘I’, and her perky tone immediately set his teeth on edge.  Eames looked up from his menu and flashed her a wide smile.

“Good evening, Mindi,” he replied and Arthur could almost see the shift in her attitude, from perky to…  _ something more _ .  Her smile changed and she angled her stance more towards Eames even as she looked at Arthur.  He forced a smile in her direction and wasn’t surprised when her expression cooled a bit – he doubted his smile seemed too sincere.

“What brings you gentlemen out tonight?  Business meeting?” she asked, and Arthur cringed at the way she was obviously fishing for information, her eyes once more glued to Eames.

Arthur’s hand clenched slightly beside his water glass and he was surprised when Eames reached across the table and wrapped his hand around Arthur’s, his smile blindingly bright as he looked up at the waitress.

“Actually, Mindi, my boyfriend and I are having a nice dinner out together.  We wanted somewhere romantic and we were told this was just the place to try,” he told her as he gave Arthur’s fingers a squeeze.  Mindi visibly deflated, but kept her smile in place as she nodded.

“Well, whenever you two are ready, I’ll take your order.”

“Thanks, dear.  Just give us a few minutes to look over the menus,” Eames replied and she walked away.

Arthur knew he was blushing when he looked across at Eames, who was smiling fondly at him as he gave his hand one last caress before turning back to the menu.

“She was just being friendly, pet,” Eames commented, almost too nonchalant as he kept his eyes down.

“She was being more than friendly.”

“Arthur, love, I have no interest in anyone else but you.”

“I know.  But knowing that doesn’t stop my possessive streak from rearing its ugly head,” Arthur admitted and Eames looked up and smiled, the expression so loving that it made Arthur ache.

“We've talked about this, darling.  You can be as possessive as you want, as long as you remember that I'm not going anywhere."

Arthur turned his palm up and linked his fingers through Eames' as he leaned up and over the table.  Eames met him halfway and they kissed, brief but intense, oblivious to the glances of the other diners.

When he settled back in his seat, Eames waved Mindi back over to place their order.  When she greeted them the second time, her expression was affectionately amused, and Arthur's smile was sincere.

++++++++++

**Dec 28th**

“I want to see the buildings.  The Distillery District is famous for its historic buildings,” Arthur said.

“You want to drink the beer,” Eames countered.

“Well, of course I want to drink the beer.  But I want to drink the beer  _ there _ so I can see the buildings.  Besides, you’ll get a chance to people watch, and I know your little forger heart loves that.”

“You’re not an architect in dreams, though, so it doesn't explain your intense interest in the buildings.”  Arthur sent him a withering stare.

“Really, Eames?  I’m a point man; it’s my job to gather as much information as possible.  And you know we have as much input in the dreamspace build as the architect, more most of the time,” Arthur argued.

“So this is for research, so you know some new building layouts and such to use for work?”

“And for the beer, of course.”

“Of course.”

++++++++++

**Dec 29th**

“Why the Art Gallery of Ontario?” Arthur asked as they slid into the backseat of their cab.

“They have the largest collection of sculpture from Henry Moore,” Eames explained.

“Anything else interesting?”

“They have a nice modernist exhibit set up right now, seemed right up your alley.”

Arthur thought about it a moment and nodded.

“As long as we get lunch after.  I want to try that Thai place up the street.”

“Do I get to strip you naked and eat off your skin like I did last time we had Thai food?” Eames asked with a mischievous grin.  Arthur’s answering grin was just as wicked, and both of them ignored the cab driver when he rolled his eyes and gave them an indulgent smile in the rearview mirror.

++++++++++

**Dec 30th**

“Have you checked your phone at all since we’ve been here?” Arthur asked.

“Once on Christmas Eve.  There were approximately fifteen messages from my mum so I turned it right back off again,” Eames admitted.

“Same here.  I checked it Christmas morning and Nan left about the same number.”

“I wonder which she is madder about, me not being there or leaving Jason to tell her about it.”

“You mean you didn’t tell her yourself?” Arthur clarified and Eames shook his head.

“No, I called Jason to say sorry for taking off.  He was surprised I had come at all, knowing the situation and he said don’t worry about it and offered to let my mum know.  He hoped that if he told her she would know it was okay with him and not be upset about it,” Eames said, and Arthur snorted, then chuckled and then began outright laughing.

Eames waited, not so patiently, for Arthur to calm down enough to explain.  Finally Arthur caught his breath and smiled at Eames.

“I did the same thing with Freddy, so I didn’t tell Nan myself, either.”  Eames thought about that a moment and started laughing, too.

“So, we can stare down limbo, guns in dreams  _ and _ real life, unstable and collapsing subconscious minds, all without blinking an eye, but neither of us can face up to the matriarchs of our families,” Arthur pointed out and started a fresh round of laughter for them both.

++++++++++

**Dec 31st**

"Arthur, are you going to be ready any time tonight?" Eames called out from the living room where he was watching random fireworks explode over the lake.

"Yeah, yeah.  Should I wear a tie or not?" Arthur hollered back.

"Collared shirt required, leave the tie at home."

"Fine, I'm ready then," Arthur replied as he came down the hall.  Eames turned to see Arthur shrugging into his suit jacket, his waistcoat buttoned over a shirt that was partially open.

"Wait... take the jacket back off," Eames said and moved across the room.  Arthur gave him a curious look, but did as he asked, pulling his arms from the sleeves and hanging the jacket on the back of the closest chair.

Eames circled Arthur slowly, running his fingertips over his shoulder seams, one hand down the middle of his back to brush across his ass where the slacks fit him with just the right amount of snugness.  The suit was a three-piece black pinstripe, his shirt crisp white.  Because this was Arthur, it was tailored to perfection.  Eames wound back around so he was facing Arthur, one hand on a hip, the other cupping the back of Arthur's neck.  Eames pulled him into a kiss, his tongue pushed past Arthur's lips to lick and taste.  Arthur responded with enthusiasm and soon they were gripping each other tight, hips grinding against hips, panting into each other's mouths a little.

"I shouldn't let you leave looking like this," Eames muttered, his hand slid down and his fingers dug into Arthur's ass.  Arthur gasped and pressed into the touch.

"Why?" Arthur whispered against Eames' neck.

"Because all I'm going to want to do all night is push you against the nearest surface and fuck the breath out of you."

Arthur groaned and bit down hard on Eames' shoulder, suit jacket and all, making Eames hiss and jerk against Arthur's hips.

"Something to look forward to later then," Arthur replied and before Eames' mind could clear of the passion haze Arthur had slithered out of his arms and was slipping his jacket on, buttoning it in an effort to conceal the bulge in the front of his slacks.

"Besides, in that suit, you'll be lucky if we even make it to the club tonight," Arthur added as he ran teasing fingers across the front of Eames' pants, tracing the matching bulge there.

"Either we leave now or we don't leave at all," Eames warned and Arthur laughed.

"Your friend went through the trouble of getting us access, so we should go."

"Hands to yourself in the cab unless you want to get arrested... or at least have to tip the driver a bloody fortune," Eames said with a smirk.

They made it to the club without any untoward behavior.  Eames gave his name to the bouncer at the door  _ Of course, Mr. Williams, right this way.  Good evening, Mr. Donaldson _ and they were whisked inside to a semi-private booth in an upper floor VIP section.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Williams."

"It pays to have friends in all lines of work," Eames replied a bit smugly.

The club was multi-leveled, with several VIP areas, various bars and an incredibly eclectic decorating style.  There was a well-muscled man in a black suit with black shirt and tie standing by the table they were led to.

"Good evening, Mr. Williams, my name is Sims."

"Hello, Sims."

"Mr. Doyle sends his greetings and asked that that you accept my company for the evening."

"Does Doyle think we need protection?" Arthur asked Eames.

"Any time there are this many people in one place, there are additional concerns for security, theft, things of that sort.  As guests of the house, Mr. Doyle and Mr. Jacobson just want to make sure that your evening is a fully pleasant one.  You will be free to leave belongings at the table, or valuables in my possession, and I will keep an eye on everything for you," Sims answered for him.

"And how do we know you are really from Doyle and Jacobson?" Arthur questioned.

"Mr. Doyle wished me to convey his compliments on the fine work you did recently in South America.  Despite the fact that you are technically competitors in the security field, he wanted you to know that he thinks highly of you," Sims replied to Arthur.  Arthur and Eames shared a look, knowing the South American incident was something few people would know about.

"Nice to meet you then, Sims," Eames said and shook his hand.  Arthur followed his example and they settled into the booth as a waiter brought over a bottle of champagne.  They ordered other drinks, loosened the buttons on their jackets and relaxed back into the plush cushions.

They were a couple of hours and a few drinks into the party when Eames grabbed Arthur's hand and started pulling him from the booth.

"Come on, darling.  Lose the jacket and let's go dance."  They both left their jackets on their seats and handed their wallets to Sims.  They had an open tab and didn't need to risk taking their money onto the dance floor with them.

They made their way to the lower floor and pushed their way into the crowd moving to the music.  Eames pulled Arthur close, one leg wedged between his and hips slotted together.  They danced there for a while, surrounded and jostled by the other partiers, bodies pressing in as the music vibrated through them.

Eventually they left the floor, Arthur to the bar to get drinks and Eames to find a bathroom.  Arthur was standing by the bar, waiting for their glasses, when he felt a hand at his waist.  He turned, smiling and expecting to see Eames, but instead saw a strange woman standing there doing her best to look attractive.  Arthur tried to step away from her, but everyone was shoulder to shoulder at the bar and he had no room to move.

"You are gorgeous, darling," she said and he shuddered at the way the term of endearment sounded coming from her instead of Eames.

"I'm not interested," he replied curtly.

"I've never seen anyone that looks as good in a suit as you do."

"I'm taken, and I'm still not interested."  She stepped closer to him and her hand slipped down from his waist.

"If you girlfriend is half as good-looking as you, then we can all have fun together," she said as she gave his ass a squeeze.

"That would be boyfriend, and I don't share," Eames said as he slipped back in behind Arthur and grabbed her wrist to remove her hand.  She pouted, attempted to look sexy, and reached to rest her hand on Eames instead.  He deftly sidestepped her grasp and wrapped his arms around Arthur.

"My dear, we are being as nice in our refusal as we can be.  Neither of us is interested, and if you don't get the hint and go away, I will have you removed from the club," Eames informed her, his voice hard.  She frowned and seemed to consider it a moment, then finally shrugged and walked away, weaving drunkenly on her high heels.

"My hero," Arthur said with a laugh.  Eames smiled at him and kissed him softly.

"I guess I'm just as possessive as you, pet."  The bartender sat their drinks down and they drank them quickly before making their way back to the floor.

The bass was thumping low and sensuous, and Eames fitted their hips together again, his fingers firm there where he gripped Arthur.  They moved together to the music, small shifts of their bodies creating a delicious friction, hands sliding over each other.  Arthur slipped one hand down to brush over Eames' ass and Eames wrapped his hand around the back of Arthur's neck and drew him into a kiss.  Their tongues moved against each other as the kiss deepened and Arthur moaned and arched into Eames.  Eames breath quickened and he slid one arm around Arthur's waist, holding their bodies flush as they ground against each other.  Arthur nipped his lips and bit a trail along his jaw to Eames' ear.

"I want to go home and fuck you now," he said and Eames could hear the whisper as clearly over the music as though the room were silent.

"What about ringing in the new year?  I want to toast and kiss you at midnight."

"We can do that back at the condo," Arthur pointed out, then sucked hard against Eames' skin, drawing a shudder from him.

"I want to stay here and give these poseurs a reason to be jealous," Eames replied.  Arthur muttered against his neck and finally nodded.

"Okay, fine, but as soon as midnight hits we're gone."

"Deal.  Let's go back up to our seats.  It’s almost time and we have a bottle of champagne waiting for us," Eames said and pulled Arthur from the floor, letting one hand rest lightly over the erection straining the front of Arthur's trousers.

"You keep doing that and we won't be just kissing at midnight, Eames, club or no club," Arthur told him with a growl.  Eames laughed and continued leading him back upstairs.

They opened the bottle, poured two flutes of champagne and moved to the back of their booth to sit, pressed together.  Arthur reached over and slid a hand into Eames' lap, rubbing his cock through his pants.

"Love, I thought we were going to wait until we got home?" Eames asked, his voice thready as his head dropped back against the wall.  He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud as Arthur continued squeezing and caressing him through the fabric.

"We're waiting until we get home for me to fuck you, but not for this," Arthur said and unzipped Eames' pants.  Eames gasped when Arthur's hand slipped inside and his fingers wrapped around Eames' cock.  The table hid everything from view, as Sims was the only one close enough to see anything, and he was pointedly keeping his attention turned the other direction.

Arthur doubled his attack by leaning in and pressing a biting kiss to Eames' neck just below his ear, and Eames shivered when Arthur's breath ghosted over the moistened spot. 

"As soon as we walk in I'm going to yank down your pants and fuck you against the door.  You started this earlier before we left, and you've been teasing me all night, and I'm going to make you pay for it," Arthur whispered as he kept sliding his hand up and down Eames' erection.  He sucked in a breath as Arthur's hand twisted just so around the head of his cock.  His orgasm caught him off guard as it rolled through him, his eyes tightly closed and his mouth open as he panted.  Arthur had him wiped off with a napkin and his pants fastened back up before Eames had even caught his breath.

"You are an evil man, Arthur," he said when he had calmed down.

"I'm sure you'll return the favor some day," Arthur replied with a satisfied smirk as he glanced at his watch.

"About that time?" Eames asked and Arthur nodded.  They took their champagne and moved to stand by the railing overlooking the rest of the club.  Eames looped an arm loosely around Arthur's waist and leaned into him.

"I'm glad we got away for this week," Arthur said.

"Me, too, love," Eames replied.  They counted down with everyone else and clinked their glasses as a cheers rose up from the crowd.  They each took a sip of champagne, then turned into each other, lips meeting effortlessly, the kiss sweetened from the alcohol.

"Happy New Year, Arthur."

"Happy New Year, Eames.  Now do we get to go home so I can fuck you?"

"I can't say that I don't like your persistence."

They gathered their things from the booth, tipped Sims despite him trying to turn it down, and left the bar as quickly as they could make their way through the throngs of people.

They caught a cab outside the bar and managed to keep their hands mostly to themselves during the ride home.  The elevator seemed to take longer than normal, and they kept reaching for each other and catching themselves.  They made it to the door before Eames gave up completely and wrapped his arms around Arthur from behind, his hands going to Arthur's crotch.  Arthur fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the door as Eames loosened his belt and opened his pants.  The door finally opened and they stumbled through, then Arthur slammed the door closed and pushed Eames back against it.

"Fuck... I need...  _ shit _ ... I should get..." Arthur stammered as he sandwiched Eames between himself and the door.  He rotated his hips against Eames, their hardened cocks rubbing together.  Eames reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small tube and a square foil package.  He held them up so Arthur could see it, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, you are a smart one," Arthur breathed out and took the packages.  He pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles, then yanked open Eames' pants, too.  Eames grabbed Arthur's face in both hands and pressed a bruising kiss to his mouth.  He stepped back and pushed his clothing down to the floor, then turned around and put his palms against the door to brace his weight as he leaned over at the waist.  He wiggled his ass and looked over his shoulder at Arthur, smirking at the lust-filled gaze Arthur gave him.

Arthur rolled on the condom and slicked up his cock with lube, then smeared some of it on his fingers.  Eames drew in a breath then he felt the first of Arthur's digits press in through his hole and start stretching him.  He arched back into the touch and his fingers curled against the door when Arthur added a second finger.

"I just want you inside me, Arthur,  _ right now _ ."

"Yes, sir," Arthur said and pulled out his fingers.  Eames felt a hand on his hip and Arthur's dick brushing against him.  There was a moment of intense pressure and then a fullness as Arthur slid inside.  Eames braced himself on the door and pushed back to meet Arthur's thrust.

Their moans filled the room as Arthur seated his cock fully inside Eames.  They paused for a moment, savoring the connection, then Arthur slid out and back in.  He thrust slowly once, twice, three more times, and then Eames shoved back against him.

"Fuck me, Arthur," he hissed and Arthur leaned over his back and bit down hard on his shoulder.  He set a forceful pace and Eames had to keep his hands spread on the door to hold himself steady.  He met Arthur push for push, drawing grunts and groans from them both as Arthur pounded into him.

Eames shifted his weight and braced himself on one hand, using the other to reach back between his legs to cup Arthur's balls.

" _ Christ _ ," Arthur yelled and the rhythm of his hips stuttered as he yanked back on Eames' hips to bury himself fully inside as he came.  He slid one hand along Eames' side and wrapped his lube-slicked hand around Eames' dick.  He jerked him several times until Eames came, too.

Arthur rested draped over Eames' back until they both caught their breath, then Eames grunted and pushed at him, trying to straighten up as Arthur moved.  They each pulled their pants up and Eames staggered over to the kitchen to get a towel that he used to clean the hardwood floor by the door.  He tossed the towel to the side and pulled Arthur close to kiss him softly.

"Happy New Year."

Arthur laughed and nuzzled his neck.

"Happy New Year."

++++++++++

**Jan 1st**

“I suppose we’ll have to head back in a couple of days,” Eames muttered against Arthur’s bare shoulder, his head tucked into the crook of Arthur’s neck to block the light from the windows that was slanting across the bed where they were still burrowed under the duvet.

“Mmhmm,” Arthur murmured in reply.

“I’m not looking forward to calling my mum.”

“I’m thinking about avoiding Nan for at least a week after I get back.”

“I bet I could smooth things over with her.”

Arthur turned his head to look at Eames, his eyes calculating.

“What?” Eames asked.

“That’s it.  Nan loves you, your mom likes me.  We’ll handle each other's family.”

“Oh, that’s completely cowardly… I love it.”

“Good.  For now, no more talk of family.  We have at least a full twenty-four hours before we have to worry about returning to normal life, and I propose we spend the whole time naked in bed,” Arthur suggested and Eames twisted so that his body was covering Arthur.

“I do love the way you think, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> http://torontochristmasmarket.com - I fudged this one a bit – the Market would have actually been over by the time they were in Toronto
> 
> http://www.worldofluxuryus.com/special/Alain-Silberstein/Rondo/OK-13/454_457_3229.php - the watch that Arthur gave Eames for Christmas
> 
> http://www.hardyamies.com/en/elook - I picture Arthur getting something like the second look there, the charcoal pinstripe three piece suit
> 
> http://www.thisislondonclub.com - basis for their night out for New Years Eve, it's a real club in Toronto, obviously not really managed by Eames’ friend
> 
> All other locations used in the fic were real - Natrel Pond, the Distillery District, Harbourfront and the borrowed condo, the Art Gallery of Ontario and its Henry Moore collection, 360 The Restaurant at the CN Tower


	11. Lose This Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time that Arthur and Eames work the same job after they get together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue at an indeterminate length of time after they get together (less than a year)

Eames sighed when Arthur started tapping his knee with his fingers, a nervous gesture that was foreign for him.  Eames reached over and covered Arthur’s hand with his as he leaned in and kissed him, a quick touch of lips meant to reassure Arthur… or both of them, if Eames was honest.

“Darling, I’ve never known you to be the type to fidget, and it is getting to be a bit unnerving,” Eames told him and Arthur flashed a brief smile.

“Sorry, it’s just… first job working together and all,” Arthur explained and Eames nodded.

“And nothing will be different than before.  We’ve discussed this.  Ariadne will be the only other member of the team who knows and she won’t mention it in mixed company.”

“I know, I know, we’ve gone over it a hundred times.  I just hate the thought of people in our industry knowing.  I wouldn’t want anyone to get any ideas about trying to use you against me,” Arthur muttered.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but people will always want to work with the best, so it was inevitable that we would be on a job together again,” Eames agreed and lifted Arthur’s hand to press a soft kiss to the underside of his wrist, a sensitive spot for Arthur, and he smirked when Arthur’s eyes clouded at the intimate touch .

“Besides, anyone in the industry that really knows us should be more afraid to mess with either of us now, knowing there would be personal feelings behind any retribution,” Eames added with a grin and Arthur laughed softly and squeezed his hand.

++++++++++

Ariadne was already in the rented office, hard at work on a scale model for the dream, when Arthur walked in the next morning.  She looked around for Eames, thinking they would arrive together, despite knowing they were trying to keep their relationship secret.

Arthur greeted her with a smile and quick hug, and then began asking her questions about the layout as he sipped his coffee and they waited for the others to arrive.  The extractor was a woman named Jill that Ariadne hadn’t worked with before, but Arthur had vouched for her when he called with the job details.  Because they were using standard Somnacin, the chemist they contracted with had opted to send the compounds rather than work in the field.  She hadn’t spoken with Yusuf in a while and had hoped to see him here.

Eames finally wandered in around mid-morning with his trademark devil may care expression on his face as he sauntered over to greet Jill.

“Jilly!  It’s been ages.  How have you been?” he asked and sat on the corner of her desk.  If Ariadne hadn’t known better, she would have sworn Eames was flirting with Jill, and she glanced over at Arthur to see if he had noticed.

Arthur was… well, he was Arthur.  He was focused on the computer and papers spread out in front of him, tuning out the rest of the world as he began the laborious process of sorting through the mark’s data to see what could be useful to the job.

Ariadne frowned and looked back to Eames as he leaned over Jill’s shoulder, pointing to something on the desk as they talked.  She wasn’t sure what sign she had expected to confirm that Arthur and Eames really were together, that the whole thing wasn’t some joke that had been cooked up… but whatever she thought she might see, it wasn’t there.

When they wrapped that first day, it had begun to snow, and Eames was complaining that he hadn’t worn the right shoes for trudging through the inches that had already accumulated.  Arthur ignored Eames’ grumblings as he buttoned his coat and picked up the keys to his rental car.

“Why not ride with Arthur?” Ariadne asked, mindful to keep the question vague because Jill was standing beside her.

“Not necessary, really, I just wanted to complain.  My hotel is just up the street, and you know Arthur prefers those five-star luxury suites, Ariadne, so he’s probably across town somewhere,” Eames replied as he wound his scarf around his neck.  Arthur’s only response was a quirked brow and a shake of his head.

“I can give you a ride to your hotel, if you want,” Jill offered and Eames smiled.

“That would be lovely, Jill, thanks so much.”

“Where are you staying, Ari?  Do you need a ride?” Arthur asked and Ariadne nodded, still puzzled by the whole situation.

“Sure,” she replied and they all walked out into the cold and went their separate ways.

Ariadne wanted to ask Arthur about it, and it was on the tip of her tongue several times, but she held back and stayed on safer topics like how her work was going.

It wasn’t until three days later that she finally caught the sign she had been looking for.  The snow had cleared up and she had started taking the rail between the office and her hotel.  She had left for the evening and was almost to the rail station when she realized she had left her sketchbook on her table.  She really wanted to work out some kinks in the level, so she turned around and made the trek back to the office to fetch it.  Arthur’s car was still there, but Jill had apparently left.  She walked inside and started down the hallway to commons area they were using, but paused outside the space when she heard the murmur of voices.  She moved to the doorway and froze, taking in the scene before her.

Eames was sitting at his desk, leaned forward with his head on his arms, and Arthur…

Arthur was rubbing his shoulders and upper back; there wasn’t anything overtly sexual about the way he was touching Eames, and there was a distinct lack of the typical tenseness to his stance like Arthur might have had in the past when that close to Eames.  It was all very… couple-y.

Ariadne could just make out what they were saying to each other, and she shamelessly listened in on the conversation.

“We’re getting ripped off.  This job is worth way more than the customer is paying,” Arthur said.

“It’s not like we need the money, love,” Eames replied.

“That’s not the point.  It’s the principle of it.”

Eames hummed in response and leaned back as Arthur shifted to meet him partway, draping himself over Eames' back and kissing him below the ear.

Ariadne blushed and backed away from the door.  She crept back to the front door and opened it, then closed it forcefully so that it made noise.  She stomped down the hallway and called out as she neared the door.

“Hey, Arthur!” she said as she rounded the corner, “And Eames!  I didn’t think you would both still be here.”

They had separated, but Arthur was still close by, braced against the edge of Eames' desk.  The two of them shared what she could only describe as a knowing look and Eames smirked at her.

“You can drop the surprised act, Ari,” he said and she grinned.

“Hey, I’m just making sure I stick to protocol for the ‘top secret relationship’,” she replied, complete with finger quotes.  Arthur smiled and swatted her with a folder when she walked by to get her sketchbook.

“The three of us should go to dinner tonight,” Ariadne suggested and watched as Eames and Arthur shared another  _ look _ .

“Maybe another night, Ari.  We already have plans,” Arthur said and Eames’ smile grew.

“Uhh, yeah.  I don’t want to know,” she replied.

"Phone sex," Eames stage whispered and Ariadne stuck her fingers in her ears with a mock-shocked expression.  A heated glance passed between Arthur and Eames and she shook her head, grinning to herself as she headed towards the door.  She paused and turned back to look at them again, noting the way they had drifted towards each other as soon as her back was turned.

“You know, I was beginning to think you guys were pulling my leg with the whole relationship thing,” she commented.

“We’re not,” Arthur confirmed.

“Yeah, I see that now,” she replied and beamed as she added, “I’m happy for you guys.”

Arthur blushed and tried to hide a pleased grin.  Eames didn't bother to hide his smile as he leaned into Arthur and grasped his hand as she left.

++++++++++

Over the rest of the job, she watched more closely and she realized that for someone that knew Arthur and Eames, the signs were there like flashing neon.

Arthur always appeared to be completely absorbed in what he was doing, but there would be a lightning quick flick of his eyes as he locked gazes with Eames whenever Eames passed within his line of sight.

Eames would leer or crack some horrific joke that would usually leave Arthur sputtering in scorn, but now there would only be a barely visible twitch at the corner of his lips as he fought a grin.

Eames was forever wandering over towards Arthur’s desk, ostensibly to ask questions, but all the things that Ariadne heard them discuss she knew Eames was already fully versed on.

Arthur had developed a new habit of letting his fingers linger on his tie each morning after he took his coat off, all appearances suggesting he was just smoothing it down, but she was watching closely enough to catch the way Eames’ eyes would burn whenever he saw Arthur doing it, like it was a secret they shared.

They were little things, but they added up.


	12. London's Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom finds out first hand that Eames can hold a grudge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, set right after Lose This Skin

Eames was on his way out the door when the landline phone in the condo rang.  He leaned over and read the display, then called out to Arthur, “Front desk.”

“Answer it on speaker,” Arthur replied from the kitchen where he was pulling out ingredients for dinner.  Eames pressed the button and greeted the guard downstairs.

“Good evening, Mr. Eames.  Mr. Cobb is in the lobby and would like to come up,” Anthony informed them.

“Go ahead and send him up,” Arthur said and Eames disconnected the call.

“I’ll just wait a moment.  Wouldn’t want to not say hello to him,” Eames said with a sharp grin.

“Behave yourself.”

“You assume that I’m not going to?”

“I know you, and I know that gleam in your eye, and I know you never got a chance to light him up about that fight we had.”

“Really, darling.  You should give me more credit than that,” Eames said and Arthur just groaned and shook his head.

“Just don’t get blood on the floor, okay?  For me?”

“Not a drop, love, I swear,” Eames promised as Arthur walked over.  He gave Arthur a quick kiss to seal the deal as the elevator doors opened.

“You knew I was coming up, couldn’t you have saved that for later?” Dom greeted them jokingly.  Arthur smiled at him and shook his hand.

“Good to see you, Dom.  What brings you out this way?”

“Flight delayed because of the weather.  They estimate about four hours and I didn’t really want to spend it sitting at the airport.”

“Well, you’re in time for dinner,” Arthur offered and turned back towards the kitchen.  Dom turned and held his hand out to Eames.

“Been a while, Eames.”

“That it has,” Eames replied and took the offered hand, shaking it firmly.  He took advantage of the grip to yank Dom off balance just as Eames swung his free arm and caught Dom in the jaw with a solid punch.

Dom stumbled back with a gasp and Eames followed it up with a quick right jab to Dom’s nose.  Dom tripped backwards to the wall and slid down to the floor, his hand over his nose where it was already beginning to drip blood.

“What the fuck, Eames?” he muttered through his hand.

“For fuck’s sake, at least give him this,” Arthur said and tossed Eames a dish towel.  Eames handed it to Dom, who wadded it up and pressed it under his nose.  Eames crouched down beside him so they were eye to eye.

“Now then, since you’re probably wondering what that was all about, I’ll explain it.  I’m sure you remember a little chat you had with Arthur a few months ago where you expressed some concerns about our relationship,” Eames said and paused until Dom nodded with a wary expression.

“Good.  Thanks to that little chat, Arthur and I got into a fight over something we normally wouldn’t have fought about and ended up spending two weeks apart, worried sick about each other, during which time he went down to South America and got himself shot,” Eames held up a hand, stopping the comment Arthur was about to make, “I know that he likely would have gone down there anyway, and still gotten shot, but at least I would have known where he was instead of not being able to get in touch with him for a full week.”

Dom opened his mouth to reply but Eames cut him short with a glare.

“You really don’t want to interrupt the person who just put you on the floor.”

“Eames, that’s enough,” Arthur interjected.

“ _ Almost _ done, Arthur.  You know, you really are the last person who should be giving advice about not losing yourself in a relationship, Cobb.”

Dom glared at him over the dish towel but didn’t try to respond.

“No more of that, Eames,” Arthur said and Eames could hear the hard warning in his voice and he nodded to both of them.

“You’re right, that was a low blow.  I apologize.  The thing is, Cobb, I’ve always liked you.  Despite the fact that you almost got us all stuck in limbo during the inception gig, I still like you.  And more importantly, Arthur likes you and trusts you, and that is good enough endorsement for me.  We’ve discussed what happened and your involvement in it, and we’ve chalked it up to you being concerned, caring about Arthur, blah blah blah, which is why you only got those two punches.   _ But _ ,” Eames paused as he leaned closer to Dom, who pressed back into the wall, “if you  _ ever _ try to meddle in our relationship again, good intentions or not, I will do more than bloody your nose, got it?”

He waited for Dom to nod and rocked back on his heels with a satisfied expression.

“Glad to see we understand each other.  Thing is, Cobb, Arthur means the world to me.  It’s rather pathetic how deeply in love with him I am.  Which means that I’ll protect him, from his friends, even from myself if need be… so don’t  _ ever _ underestimate how much I care for him.”

Dom nodded again and Eames stood.  He looked over at Arthur, who was staring at him with something akin to awe and Eames chuckled.

“Don’t look so surprised.  You’re well aware of how I feel,” he said to Arthur.

“Yeah, but it’s nice to hear it out loud like that,” Arthur countered with a grin.

“I was on my way to the shop for a few things for dinner, so I’ll leave you two to catch up.”  Eames made his way to the elevator as Arthur came over and helped Dom to his feet.

“I think he broke my nose,” he heard Dom tell Arthur, his voice muffled from the towel.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” he heard Arthur say as the doors closed, smiling when he heard the laughter in Arthur’s voice.


	13. One Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur isn’t big on Valentine’s Day, but Eames is determined to celebrate it, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, set after London's Burning

"I've scheduled a job in February.  I'll be gone to Spain for almost two weeks," Arthur told Eames as he came out of his office after taking a phone call.

"When in February?" Eames asked.

"The seventh through the eighteenth."

"So you'll be away for Valentine's Day?"

Arthur froze in the act of putting down his cell phone, mind racing for a few moments before he dropped the phone and turned to face Eames.

"I didn't think of that.  I've never been big on celebrating Valentine's Day, so I don't pay much attention to it," he admitted.  His stomach clenched at the quickly masked disappointment that crossed Eames' expression.

"Ah, well... not matter then, darling.  It's all a big commercialized to-do anyway, right?" Eames said and Arthur frowned.

"It's not that.  Well, not  _ just _ that.  It's a combination of that and never really being with someone around that time of year.  I just... never got in the habit," Arthur explained.

"You don't have to explain, Arthur.  It's fine, really.  It's just another day, after all," Eames replied and started for the hall, looking over his shoulder to add, "I'm going for a shower."

Arthur frowned and watched him disappear into the other room.

++++++++++

Arthur spent the next couple of weeks trying to apologize and explain to Eames about Valentine’s Day and his semi-aversion to the holiday, but each time Eames waved him away with  _ fine, fine, no big deal, just another day on the calendar _ .

Eames had left for London a few days before Arthur’s flight, and their plan was that Arthur would join him there after the job.

Arthur was six days into his job and feeling more and more disgruntled about how he had obviously disappointed Eames, as much as he tried to hide it.  It had been a long day of training dreams and finalizing research and Arthur was ready to call Eames and go to bed.

He unlocked the door to his hotel room and stopped mid-stride while entering.  There was flickering light coming from the lounge area of his small suite, and someone was moving around in the other room.  Warning bells began ringing in his mind and he dropped his bag quietly on the floor and pulled his gun from its holster in one fluid movement.  He clicked the safety off and began creeping down the hall, listening intently for any identifying sounds.  Just before he reached the doorway he heard a voice call out.

“You can put the gun away, darling, it’s only me.”

Arthur clenched his jaw and sighed as he flicked the safety back on and holstered his weapon.

“Godammit, Eames, I could have… shot…” Arthur trailed off as he rounded the corner and took in the sight before him.

Eames was standing next to the small dining table, which was laid out with a tablecloth, candles and an expensive looking meal, right down to a bottle of wine uncorked and waiting to be poured.

“What’s this?” he asked as he walked over to Eames.

“I missed you.”

“I thought we weren’t celebrating Valentine’s Day.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur, Valentine’s isn’t for two more days.  You really should learn to read your calendar better,” Eames replied, his tone casual, but Arthur could see the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“My mistake,” he replied and leaned in to kiss Eames, who returned the embrace for a moment, then pulled away.  Arthur unbuttoned his jacket and draped in across the back of a nearby chair.

“We don’t want the food to get cold,” he said and gestured for Arthur to sit.  Eames poured the wine and settled into the opposite seat.

“How did you get in?”

“Sweet-talked one of the maids,” Eames admitted and Arthur laughed.

“Is there anything you can’t con your way into?”

“Not that I know of,” Eames replied with a grin.

“The food and wine?” Arthur asked.

“The maid recommended a great little restaurant down the street.  I ordered it and brought it back here.”

“You really did sweet talk her.”

“She thought it was terribly romantic, me trying to surprise you like this, and she was all too happy to help me out with it,” Eames explained.

“I’ll be sure to tip her next time I see her,” Arthur said.

They ate amid casual chatter about what they had been working on, taking their time and just enjoying being with each other as they indulged in the meal and wine.  It was over more quickly than Arthur cared for, but Eames just grabbed the rest of the wine and motioned for Arthur to follow him to the couch.

The last rays of light from the sun were fading outside the window and Arthur leaned against Eames with a contented sigh as Eames’ arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“This working without you crap sucks,” he muttered and Eames chuckled in response.

“It does, yes.  Luckily we are both well-traveled and experienced at slipping in and out of countries, so we get to do things like this,” Eames pointed out and Arthur nodded silently as he let his eyes drift closed.

“Oh no you don’t.  No sleeping.  I’m not finished with you yet,” Eames protested.

“Well, you better think of a way to keep me awake then,” Arthur replied.

"I have something in mind, but it will mean moving to the bedroom," Eames said and stood, pulling Arthur to his feet and down the hall.  They stopped in the doorway and Arthur noted the scarves already tied to the headboard and a third swath of fabric on a pillow, waiting to be used as a blindfold, Arthur assumed.

"You had this all planned out, didn't you?" he asked with a grin and Eames shifted next to him with a hesitant smile.

"I had ideas, yes… I was thinking this time you could wear the blindfold."

"Oh."

Arthur looked back towards the bed, considering.  Eames liked for Arthur to take control; it was something that both of them got off on.  Sometimes Eames took over, and Arthur was fine with letting him lead when the mood struck him, but this...  Arthur wasn't one who gave up total control easily, and they had only gone that far a couple of times since they got together.  Arthur had never let a lover have that level of power of him before Eames, but Arthur trusted Eames like he had never trusted anyone before.

"Okay," he said and looked back to Eames, who perked up and smiled, blinding bright.

"Okay?" Eames double-checked and Arthur nodded.

" _ Arthur _ ..." Eames breathed out and grabbed him, yanking him forward for a bruising kiss.  They backed towards the bed without breaking contact, only stopping when Arthur felt the backs of his knees touch the mattress.  Eames pulled away and took a step back, his eyes shining as he looked Arthur up and down.

"Clothes off, slowly," he ordered in a low voice and Arthur felt a thrill run down his spine.  He swallowed and began unbuttoning his short, fingers trailing down the front of his body, Eames eyes tracking each movement.  He pushed the shirt from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, then grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head, arching with the motion so that he knew his muscles flexed through his torso and smiling to himself when he heard an indrawn breath from Eames.  He dropped his t-shirt and reached for his belt.

"No, let me," Eames said and Arthur stopped, let his arms hang down at his sides as Eames came forward.  He unfastened the belt and pulled it from the loops.  It hit the floor with a soft thump and Eames unbuttoned and unzipped Arthur's slacks next.  Arthur shivered as Eames pushed his pants and underwear slowly down his hips, his thumbs pressing into Arthur’s skin as they went.  He was already mostly hard as the fabric skimmed across his cock.  Once his pants were past the lower curve of Arthur's ass, Eames pushed him back so he was sitting on the bed.

Eames knelt down and untied Arthur's shoes, pulling them off and setting them aside.  He looked up at Arthur with a teasing glint in his eyes, then leaned forward and licked swiftly up Arthur's erection, the touch too brief for Arthur's liking.  Eames sat back on his heels and peeled off Arthur's socks.  He pulled the rest of Arthur's clothes off, and then stood.

"On the bed, lay down in the middle."  Arthur didn't hesitate to obey, sliding back over the duvet and settling himself with his head on the pillow in the center of the mattress.  Eames crawled onto the bed and leaned over Arthur to grab his far wrist, knotting the scarf on that side quickly around Arthur's arm.  Arthur held up his other arm, and Eames smiled approvingly before tying that one as well.  Arthur took a deep breath when Eames picked up the blindfold and Eames paused, looking questioningly at him.  Arthur nodded firmly and lifted his head so that Eames could tie the fabric.

Arthur could see some light through the material of the blindfold, but couldn't make out shapes.  He felt Eames climb off the bed, heard rustling that he knew was the sound of clothing as Eames stripped.  The bed shifted again but nothing touched Arthur for several seconds.

He jumped when he felt the first brush of breath against the tender underside of his wrist.  The press of a tongue followed after as Eames began kissing and licking his way from Arthur's hand to his shoulder.  Arthur trembled when Eames nibbled his earlobe, then bit his way down to Arthur's collarbone where he sucked hard on the flesh.  Arthur arched under the touch, his cock fully hard against his stomach.  He felt Eames crawl across him and repeat his actions to Arthur's other side.  When he reached the opposite wrist, Eames shifted down so the he rested between Arthur's spread legs.

He bit down hard on the inside of Arthur's thigh and Arthur bucked underneath him, a harsh cry escaping him at the surprise of the action.  He heard Eames laugh softly and felt him bite the other side as well.  Arthur's breathing grew ragged as he felt Eames hands sliding up his legs, bracing his hips and pushing him back down into the mattress.  Arthur felt a slight touch against his erection and then it was engulfed in heat.  He moaned, the sound loud in the quiet room, and only Eames' hands kept him on the covers.

Eames' tongue swirled around the head of his cock and Arthur's hands twitched against the scarves.  He clenched his hands against the material when Eames opened his mouth wider and Arthur felt Eames' nose pressed into his abdomen as Eames took his cock as far into his throat as he could.

"Eames... fucking  _ hell _ ..." Arthur moaned and he felt a rumbling along his dick as Eames chuckled.  The vibration made his toes curl and he wrapped his legs around Eames and tried to thrust up into the wetness of his mouth.  Eames forced him back down and pulled away, letting Arthur’s cock slip free from his mouth with a pop.

Arthur felt the bed shift and heard the sound of plastic snapping open.  Eames' fingers teasing along the skin under his balls, moving further down to his hole, where he pushed one finger in slowly.  Arthur breathed out and forced himself to relax, letting his legs fall further open.  He planted his feet on the covers and used the leverage to lift his ass off the bed.

"More... I want more," he demanded and Eames responded by kissing the side of his knee, where Arthur could feel the movement of his lips and knew that Eames was smiling as he pulled his finger free.

He cried out and bucked when he felt three of Eames' fingers thrust into him.  His mouth was open as he sucked in a breath at the burn and stretch caused by Eames' movements.  He let Eames work him open for a few moments, then hooked his ankles around Eames and pulled him forward.

"I want you inside me  _ now _ , Eames.   _ Please _ ..."

"I had so many plans for what I was going to do to you, darling, but seeing you all trussed up makes me just want to fuck your brains out."  Arthur was pleased to hear that Eames' voice sounded as wrecked as Arthur's own.  He heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and yanked against the scarves, desperately wishing that he could touch Eames.  Eames tsked and bit down on Arthur's stomach.

"I'll let you free shortly," he promised as he pushed Arthur's legs up until his knees were on his shoulders, Eames' hands holding Arthur's hips steady.

"Just fuck me," Arthur ordered and Eames laughed again, then thrust quickly into Arthur's ass.  The pain was instant, but minimal, the kind of burn that Arthur enjoyed.  Eames groaned and let his weight drop forward, Arthur folded in half underneath him, opened wide so that Eames was buried as far inside him as he could get.

Both of them were breathing quickly as Eames began sliding slowly out, then thrusting back in with a quick snap of his hips.  Arthur yanked against his bonds again as he felt the initial pooling of heat in his stomach.  Eames' pace was picking up, his hands braced on the backs of Arthur's thighs as he moved.  Arthur spared a moment to be glad that he was flexible as his knee almost bumped his ear from the force of Eames' thrusts.  He was going to be feeling this one tomorrow, and he knew that sitting in his desk chair was going to be uncomfortable, but worth it.

" _ Christ _ , Arthur... seeing you spread out like this... I'm not going to last..." Eames muttered against his neck as he leaned forward to change the angle of his thrusts.

"Please let me see you," Arthur pleaded and he was blinded momentarily when Eames pulled the scarf from his eyes.  Eames grabbed Arthur's cock with one hand, his other still braced against Arthur's leg as he moved.  Arthur let his legs shift so his knees were hooked over Eames' shoulders and he used that to lift his hips and push back, meeting Eames thrust for thrust as his hand slid up and down Arthur's erection.  Arthur caught his gaze and held it as they moved, Eames’ eyes burning as he looked down at Arthur.

"Fuck...  _ yes _ ..."

"Come for me, love," Eames whispered and Arthur shattered, his orgasm strong enough that he could only hear the rushing of blood in his ears, drowning out the sound of Eames as he shouted, his hips stuttering against Arthur’s ass as he came.  Eames collapsed forward, pressing Arthur down into the bed as he ghosted kisses along Arthur's jaw, gasping breaths mingling in a slow slide of lips.

" _ Eames _ ... that was..." Arthur trailed off, his voice fading as he tried to catch his breath.  Eames dropped to the bed beside him with a soft moan and Arthur let his legs drop to the bed.

"Bloody fucking  _ fantastic _ was what it was," Eames replied and Arthur laughed.  He watched as Eames sat up and untied his wrists.  He rubbed the skin, drawing blood circulation back to the area as Eames went to the bathroom.  He came back with a wet cloth that he used to clean Arthur up before they both climbed under the covers.  Arthur curled on his side beside Eames, relishing the pull and ache in his muscles from the sex.  Eames wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in tight before kissing Arthur on the temple.  They lay there quietly for several minutes before Arthur leaned up and looked at Eames.

“So why all of this today, if not for Valentine’s Day?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t need the calendar to tell me when to show you how much you mean to me.  Today was just another day,” Eames reiterated with a knowing smirk and Arthur finally  _ got it _ , and his mouth curved slowly into a smile.

“Right.  Any day will do,” he replied and Eames’ expression brightened with delight.  Arthur settled against Eames' shoulder again and mentally noted the date.  February 12 th ; next year it would be his turn to surprise Eames for their anti-Valentine’s Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note:
> 
> What can I say – every now and then I want the boys to fuck like porn stars ;p


	14. The Street Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames' birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, set after One Emotion

"I'm in the middle of some research and need you to run an errand for me," Arthur called out to Eames as he left his office.

"What sort of errand?"

"Some documents that I need to pick up, out in Rockford."

"Arthur, it will take me almost three hours to get out there and back," Eames pointed out.

"I really need the documents.  I'll let you take the Maserati," Arthur offered as a bribe.  Eames perked up, smiling slowly.

"Yeah, alright.  Give me the address."

"Thanks," Arthur said, then grabbed Eames and kissed him deeply, "I really appreciate it."

"Well, you do know how to convince me, pet."

++++++++++

Eames returned to the house a little more than two hours later.  Driving the Maserati meant it didn’t take him  _ quite _ as long to make the drive.  He took the elevator from the garage to the penthouse, Arthur's documents held in his hand.  The elevator door opened and Eames was surprised that the condo was  _ very _ dark.  Arthur rarely closed those blinds, and he never left all the lights off, even when they went to bed.

Eames' fingers twitched and he reached for his gun before he remembered that he hadn't worn it.  He took a slow step from the elevator, his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness as he strained to hear anything out of the ordinary.  It was possible Arthur was still back in his office and had gotten so caught up in his work that he hadn't realized how late it was.

Eames took another step into the condo and dropped the papers in his hand when the lights suddenly flashed on, blinding him as he heard multiple voices calling out "SURPRISE!"

He looked around the room and spotted several of his old friends from the military, some friends he had made here in Chicago, a few of Nan's family members he was chummy with, and... Arthur, grinning.  As everyone else laughed at Eames' shock, Arthur came forward and kissed him, a quick embrace, then whispered, "Happy birthday."

"You did all of this?"

Arthur nodded.

"Sent me on the errand to get me out of the house?"

"Of course."

“How did you know what my birthday is?”

“Please, like I couldn’t find that out?  I’m not the best point man in the business for nothing.”

“You called my mother, didn’t you?”

“Being the best point man means knowing how to use your resources.”

Eames chuckled and looked around the room at friends from all points in his life as they poured drinks and chatted.  He looked back at Arthur and took his hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss the back of his fingers.

"Thank you, love.  This is a wonderful birthday treat."  Arthur's grin grew wider, and he pushed Eames towards the rest of the group.

"Go have fun.  I'll clean up the papers and join you in a minute."

"I'll have a drink ready for you," Eames promised.


	15. Junkie Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames is in the wrong place at the wrong time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, set after The Street Parade

Eames was on his way home from the pub, enjoying his walk in the brisk evening Chicago air.  He'd gone out for a few drinks with some friends while Arthur stayed home to wrap up the details on a file he had been contracted to do.  The pub was only a few blocks from their building, so Eames had opted to walked instead of drive - he loved the city at night.

He was about a block from the pub and rounding a corner by a 24 hour market, when someone came out of the store and ran into him.  Eames grabbed the person on instinct, to steady them both, and looked up.  He had enough time to see that it was a young man, wearing a cap pulled low over his face, and he was shaking like a leaf.

Everything seemed to slow down as Eames opened his mouth to say something about being careful, but he was cut short by a loud popping... the sound of a gun.  He glanced around a moment before realizing that there was something hard pressed against his stomach.  He looked down at the 9 mm just as the searing pain started in his abdomen.

He looked up at the gunman, his mouth still open to speak, and the man jerked free of his grasp and took off down the street.  Eames reached down and pressed his fingers against his stomach, his hand covered in blood when he pulled it away.  His vision started going dark around the edges, and someone came running out of the store with a phone in their hand just as Eames fell to the sidewalk.

++++++++++

"Arthur Donaldson," Arthur answered the phone.  He listened silently, his fingers tightening on the edge of the countertop in front of him.

"When did this happen?  What hospital is he at?"

Arthur had grabbed his keys and was out the door before the policeman on the other end had finished answering.  He cursed the slowness of the elevator and garage door, and peeled out as he left the parking lot.  The hospital was a few miles from the condo, so he was there in short time.  He parked and ran inside, going straight to the nursing station.

"Marcus Williams, he came in with a gunshot wound," he said a bit breathlessly.  The nurse checked her charts and nodded.

"He is here, but he is in surgery right now.  You'll have to wait out here," she said and motioned to the waiting room chairs.

Arthur was frustrated, but knew she was right.  He took a seat and stared at the clock, impatient for news on how Eames was doing.

It seemed like days had passed when a doctor finally came out and spoke with the nurse, who motioned towards Arthur.  He stood and met the doctor halfway.

"How is he?" he asked without bothering with introductions.

"He needs to stay here for a few days, for observation, but I believe he will be fine," the doctor replied.

"Which room is he in?  I want to see him."

"Are you family?" the doctor asked.

"I'm his... boyfriend, partner... whatever you want to call it."

"I'm sorry, but due to his condition we are restricting visitors to immediate family only."

"I  _ am _ his family.  I'm the only family he has in this country!" Arthur responded, his voice rising as his frustration took over.  The doctor held up his hands and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but those are the rules."  He turned and walked away, leaving Arthur pacing angrily.  He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed quickly.

"Mickey... hey, I need a favor..."

+++++++++

Twenty minutes later, Arthur was in a chair at Eames' bedside.  Mickey had called a friend of his, a doctor who was on the board at the hospital, and he had taken care of getting Arthur full access to Eames' room, and had him listed on Eames' chart as the person to discuss everything with.

Arthur had one of Eames' hands clutched between his own, his heart racing with a fear he had never felt before as he stared at Eames' pale form.  The doctor had explained that the bullet had passed through the left side of his body without hitting any internal organs, and it had narrowly missed a rib, allowing the lead to exit without fragmenting.  The doctor hadn't had to explain to Arthur that it was something of a miracle that nothing vital was hit.  There had been a sizable amount of blood loss, and it would take Eames a while to heal, but the wound wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

++++++++++

Eames woke up disoriented, confused by the unfamiliar white ceiling above him.  He turned his head and knew from the scratchiness of the pillow case beneath his cheek that he wasn't in his own bed.  He realized he was in a hospital about the same time that he remembered what had put him there.

Then he saw Arthur, curled impossibly into an uncomfortable chair, sleeping with his own arm as a pillow.  Eames smiled and reached for Arthur's other hand where it still rested on the bedcovers.  Arthur jerked awake as soon as their hands touched.

"Eames..." Arthur breathed, his tone full of relief.

"Hello, love."

Eames pulled Arthur up and onto the edge of the bed.  Arthur hugged him carefully, and peppered his jaw with kisses.

"Christ, Eames.  I'm never letting you out of my sight again," Arthur swore.

"That's not exactly logical, Arthur.  You can't be with me all the time," Eames replied.

"Fuck logic.  I don't want logic right now.  I want to be clingy and protective."

"Arthur..."

"I mean it.  You aren’t allowed to go anywhere without me again," Arthur vowed and Eames smiled weakly.

"What happened to not making decisions for each other?" he asked.

"Doesn't count.  You got shot."

"So did you," Eames pointed out.

"I got patched up by a medic, and could have done the stitches myself if I'd had to.  An inch in any direction and you would be in the ICU instead of a regular room," Arthur argued.

"Fair point," Eames relented.

"It scared the shit out of me, Eames.  I've never been that afraid.  And then they wouldn't let me in here.  I had to call Mickey and get him to pull some strings."

"I'm still here, and since I'm  _ not _ in the ICU, I assume I am going to be fine."

"The doctor said you'll be out of commission for a while, but there won't be any permanent damage."

"See... everything will be okay," Eames promised and Arthur sighed.  Eames could see some of the tension release from Arthur's shoulders.

A nurse came bustling into the room before they could say anything else, but Eames could see the small smile on Arthur's face as he climbed off the bed and Eames couldn't help but smile in return.

++++++++++

Eames was released from the hospital four days later.  Arthur had stayed with him the entire time and brought him home.  Just the trip from the hospital to the condo had exhausted Eames, so Arthur helped him settle in their bed to rest.

"What is today?" Eames asked as he nestled back into his own pillows.

"May 12th," Arthur answered.

"Our anniversary," Eames pointed out.  Arthur turned and looked at him, smiling, his eyes shining a little.

"That's true, it is.  And you're home, which I think is the best present I could get," Arthur said.

"You say that now, love, but just wait until I have cabin fever in a week."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out."

++++++++++

Eames disconnected the call and dropped his phone onto the table.  He'd gotten a call about a job that needed a forger, and he wanted to take it.  He had almost gone insane being stuck in the house for the first couple of weeks.  He and Arthur were leaving the house now, getting out and doing things, but Arthur was still being hard-headed about what he would let Eames do.

"You are not taking any jobs right now, Eames, no way."

Eames hadn't even had a chance to say what the call was about, but leave it to Arthur to know without being told.  And leave it to Arthur to keep being hard-headed, apparently.

"Oh come on, it's not like I'll be fighting off gangsters."

"You aren't healed yet.  You're still on antibiotics and pain meds and you have no idea how those will react with Somnacin compounds.  And what if the job goes bad topside?  You can't defend yourself, you aren't in any condition to fight right now," Arthur said.  Eames sighed and sank into the sofa, trying and failing to hide his wince as nagging pain throbbed through his side.

"Why do you have to be so smart?  And right.  Have I mentioned how annoying that is?" Eames replied.  Arthur grinned and settled on the couch next to him.

"You stay home and behave so that you heal right and I promise I'll make it worth your while," Arthur promised.

"Well... when you put it that way, I suppose I could be convinced to stay put a little while longer."


	16. I'm Not Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur never really thought he was the jealous type, but he is proven wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, set after Junkie Slip

“I talked to Jill and she vouched for this new extractor.  Said he was professional and focused,” Arthur explained as he and Eames were packing.

“I’ve heard the name Dylan floating around lately.  He’s supposed to be good,” Eames replied.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

++++++++++

Dylan was younger than Arthur expected, but he was polite and ready to get down to business once the introductions were made.  Eames was the only one not there yet, making his arrival later in the day as usual.

Arthur was booting up his computer to begin researching when he heard Eames come in and start greeting everyone.  He stood to join them in time to see the surprised expression on Dylan’s face when he saw Eames, an expression that was quickly schooled into a slight grin.

Arthur watched as Dylan shook Eames’ hand and held it far too long for a normal greeting.  Eames finally had to pull his hand away with a grimace that was there and gone fast enough that Arthur was probably the only one who noticed.

Arthur would have chalked that up to nothing, except that it seemed like every time he turned around, Dylan was ingratiating himself into Eames’ personal space.  He sat on the edge of Eames’ desk, put his hand on his shoulder, his arm, his back, leaned too close to him when talking.

Arthur could tell that Eames was not encouraging the behavior, and was in fact trying to avoid the touches and proximity, but Dylan was proving very determined.

Arthur and Eames were in their hotel room the third night when Arthur brought it up.

“I know, pet.  Believe me, I’ve noticed.  I’ve tried to dissuade him, but it isn’t working so far,” Eames said.

“Maybe you need to be clearer in your refusal,” Arthur suggested.

“Well, I could shoot him, I suppose.  Think that would be clear enough?” Eames replied with a grin.

“It’s worth a try.”

“Arthur…”

“I don’t like that he touches you.”

Eames pulled him close and buried his nose in Arthur’s hair.  Arthur relaxed against him and sighed.

“I know, I know… I’m being stupid,” Arthur muttered.

“Not at all, darling.  It’s just that I can only do so much without exposing us,” Eames reminded him.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Arthur said and tugged Eames over to the bed, “Now let’s stop talking about that nuisance.”

++++++++++

The job was almost over and Arthur figured they would be lucky if they finished it without him shooting their extractor.  Tomorrow was the day they were supposed to grab the mark, and Arthur couldn’t focus on anything but Dylan.

Arthur was going to murder Jill.  Next time he saw her he was going to strangle her with his bare hands.

_ Professional, my ass _ he thought as he looked over to see Dylan once again leaning over Eames at his desk, one hip cocked to the side and a hand resting unnecessarily on Eames' shoulder for balance.  Arthur was sure Dylan thought he was being sexy, but  _ Christ _ , what man could be sexy when giggling like that?  

_ Giggling! _

_ Fuck this shit, I’ve had enough _ , Arthur thought as he stood up from his desk.

“Dylan.”

He waited until Dylan’s attention was on him, and then crossed closer to Eames’ desk.  Everyone had stopped to look at them because Arthur had made sure his voice was loud enough to carry throughout the room.

“Get your hands off him and keep them off,” he ordered.  Dylan’s eyes widened and he had the nerve to laugh.

_ He obviously didn’t pay attention to my reputation. _

“What gives you the right to say anything about it?” Dylan asked.

Arthur’s vision blurred at the edges and he clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for his gun.  He saw Eames stand up, his expression one of mild alarm.

“What gives me the right?” Arthur repeated in a whisper, the softness of his voice a warning to anyone who knew him.

He strode forward and pushed Dylan to the side to get to Eames.  He yanked Eames in close, one hand splayed across his jaw, the other threaded through his hair.  He put enough pressure on the strands and his cheek to have Eames whimpering softly, his lips parted slightly.  Arthur knew which buttons to push to make Eames quiver, and he took advantage of them now.  He angled Eames’ head and crowded him back to the desk, forcing him to lean backwards against the edge as he pressed their bodies together.

Arthur’s kiss was forceful, devouring, and he felt the immediate response as Eames shuddered against him, his hands fisting in Arthur’s shirt, oblivious to anything else going on around them.

They stayed liked that for several moments, Arthur claiming Eames with a kiss that left no question as to the depth of the passion behind it.  He finally lifted his head, smirking at Eames’ half-lidded, glazed eyes, his swollen lips parted as he gasped lightly for air, his skin flushed with desire and his fingers still twisted up in Arthur’s clothes.

Arthur kept Eames leaned back on the desk and looked over his shoulder at Dylan, noting the shocked expressions of everyone in the room.  Dylan’s eyes were widest of all, and now there was just a touch of fear in his gaze.

_ Now he understands what he’s dealing with. _

Arthur turned back to Eames, smiled, and licked a swipe across his lips one last time before straightening up and pulling Eames up with him.  He made sure Eames was steadied against the desk before he turned to Dylan again.

“ _ That _ is my say in it.  Touch him again and I will break every bone in your hand one at a time.  Got it?”   
Arthur asked.

Dylan nodded and took an instinctive step backwards.  Arthur looked back at Eames and smirked at his still-lust hazed expression.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be back in a little while,” Arthur said and everyone quickly turned back to their work and tried to act like nothing had happened.  Arthur grabbed Eames by the hand and dragged him from the room as he pulled the rental car keys from his pocket.

++++++++++

Arthur had just finished checking them out of the hotel when his cell phone rang.  He checked the screen and answered it.

“Hello,  Dom.”

“Arthur, how are you?”

“Fine.  How are the kids?”

“Oh, they’re great.  How was the job?”

“Oh, it was fine.  The dream went smoothly.  This hot shot extractor has potential, but he has a long way to go before he can claim to be the best.”

“Ah yes… Dylan.  I’ve heard about him.”

“Oh?”

“Of course, I’m hearing even more about you and Eames these days.”

Arthur stopped in the middle of the lobby.

“Is that right?  And what are you hearing?”

“Well, let’s just say that as far as closets go, the dreamshare door is wide open.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his temple.

“How the hell did you hear about it already?”

“Well, apparently your chemist is friends with Yusuf.  Yusuf called Ariadne, who was visiting Saito about a new building he wants to put up, and he called me.”

“Wait?  So you heard about it from Saito?  Our former tourist is in the dreamshare gossip loop now?”

“Word travels.”

“It’s funny.  All these years I could have sworn I worked in a business full of adults, but apparently I was wrong.  This is worse than fucking high school.”

“Well, it’s been long enough that inception isn’t the main talk of the industry, so they need something new.”

“Gee, I’m so glad I could provide their entertainment.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you staked such a public claim on Eames.”

“I didn’t really think at all.  I just… reacted.”

“I get it, I do.  Just remember that this is all your own doing.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“Any time.  Have a safe flight.”

“Bye.”

++++++++++

“Who were you on the phone with?” Eames asked once they were settled in their cab on the way to the airport.

“Dom called to let me know that we are the number one topic of conversation these days.”

“He heard already?”

“From Saito,” Arthur replied with a nod.

“Well now.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, broken only when Eames chuckled.  Arthur quirked a brow in question.

“I was just thinking that I may hire Dylan to follow us around, flirting with me, if it will always produce the same results,” Eames explained.

“You know that eventually I would shoot him, right?” Arthur reminded him.

“True, but until then, there would be some extremely hot, jealousy fueled sex,” Eames pointed out.

“There is that,” Arthur agreed with a smile.


	17. Remote Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames is nothing if not determined…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between London Calling and its epilogue, set after I’m Not Down

“What fantasies do you have?” Eames asked one evening while they were sitting on their patio in London.

“Fantasies?  Like what?”

“You know, fantasies.”

Arthur was quiet for a bit before answering.

“I don’t know.  I’ve spent so many years in and out of people’s dreams that I don’t really think of fantasies any more.  Isn’t everything we do a fantasy?” Arthur countered.

“You know what I mean, pet.  Something out of the norm, something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t,” Eames said.

“Looking for something new to try in the bedroom?” Arthur asked with a smirk.

“I’m not talking about just sexual, I mean anything.” 

Arthur shrugged and turned his attention back to the sunset, and Eames fought to hide his frustration.

++++++++++

Arthur opened his eyes and looked around at an unfamiliar bar.  He immediately reached into his pocket for his totem and knew by the weight that he was in a dream.

_ Interesting.  How did I get here? _

A beautiful brunette in an evening gown walked to the stage and started to sing.  Even in an unfamiliar female body, Arthur recognized Eames.  He listened to the woman’s voice with Eames’ inflections sing about love along with the slow jazzy sound of a piano.  When the song was over she made her way through the crowd to Arthur’s side and rested a hand on his knee.

“How about buying me a drink, handsome?”

Arthur wasn’t sure what Eames was up to, but he would play along.

“I’d be happy to, Miss…”

“Tomlin.  Evelyn Tomlin.”

“Evelyn… what would you like?” Arthur asked as he waved the bartender over.  They made small talk while they waited for their drinks, and by the time those glasses were empty  _ Evelyn’s _ hand had slid all the way up to Arthur’s crotch.

She leaned in close, her breath ghosting across Arthur’s cheek.

“How about we go somewhere more private?”

Arthur leaned back and looked her up and down, appraising.

“Only if you lose the forge.  I prefer you in your own skin, Eames.”

Her image flickered and Eames frowned at him.

“It did nothing for you?” he asked, disappointed.

“She was lovely, and sexy, but I knew it was you underneath, so it didn’t feel quite right,” Arthur explained.

Eames continued to frown as Arthur pulled him to his feet.

“Come on, we can use the roof for a kick,” he said.

++++++++++

The next time it happened, Arthur woke up in a dance club full of flashing lights and pulsing music.  His clothing felt oddly restrictive and he looked down to realize he was wearing leather pants.

_ Leather?  Really? _

He looked up to see Eames making his way through the crowd towards him.  Eames was wearing a sheer shirt and skin-tight jeans.  He sidled up to Arthur and draped himself over Arthur’s shoulders.

“They have private rooms in the back that we could rent for an hour,” he said in Arthur’s ear, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

“You want to have sex in a private room in this place?” Arthur asked incredulously, looking at the filthy floor and sticky bar.

“Come on, Arthur, live a little.”

“No thanks.  Dream or not, I have no desire to touch anything that could give me an STD.”

He heard Eames sigh and mutter something.

“Fine, can we at least dance before the kick?”

Arthur let himself be led to the floor, wondering again what Eames was up to.

++++++++++

_ Seriously? _ Arthur thought to himself when he woke up the third time to find a naked Eames tied to a metal ring in the wall, a gag wedged between his lips.  Arthur had a leather strap in his hand and he was bare chested and again wearing leather pants.

“You think that just because we both get off on me being a little forceful with you that this would be the next logical step?” he asked Eames as he dropped the strap on the floor and removed the gag.

“It was worth a try.  Aren’t you even going to try it out?”  Eames responded as Arthur released him from the wall.

“No, I’m not.  We’re going.”

Arthur could practically hear Eames’ teeth grinding as they left.

++++++++++

They never really talked about it topside.  Arthur chalked it up to Eames being Eames, and to his credit, Eames appeared to finally let the matter of fantasies drop.  Although Arthur did notice that Eames seemed to be watching him more closely at times, and he would get a calculating gleam in his eyes sometimes.

But a few months passed without Arthur finding himself in any more unexpected dreams, so he thought the whole thing was settled.

++++++++++

_ I should have known he wouldn’t drop it. _

“Really, Eames?  What the hell?  Why are you so determined with this fantasy shit?” he asked when Eames appeared beside him in the dream.  Eames shrugged and looked around.

“No, you talk now,” Arthur ordered.

“I just wanted to see what it would take to get you to let go and imagine for a while,” Eames explained.

“That is ridiculous.  I imagine all the time; I have to with our line of work.”

“No, you dream, which is not the same as imagining,” Eames pointed out.

“That’s just…”  Arthur trailed off when he realized that he had matching short swords in both hands.  He looked down at his clothes.

“Why am I dressed like an elf?”

“It seemed like the best match for you,” Eames explained.  Arthur studied the landscape around them.

“Is that an orc?”

Eames nodded.

“And over there… those are hobbits?”

Eames nodded again.

“So, that mountain over there spewing fire would be…”

“Mordor, yes,” Eames finished his question.

“Hmm…”

“I even have the dragon for you to slay,” Eames said.

“And when I defeat them, will the prince of the land show me his appreciation for my daring deeds?”

“Most definitely,” Eames promised.

“Okay… I can work with this,” Arthur said and started down the hill toward the orc camp.


	18. Stop The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Eames celebrate getting married

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the epilogue of London Calling

Arthur twisted the ring around his finger, still finding it hard to believe he was  _ married _ , for fuck’s sake.  And to Eames of all people.

_ Life sure has a way of keeping me on my toes. _

He was sitting at a table in the back of the ballroom.  Nan would say he was hiding, but he would never admit it to her.

They had gotten married in New York two weeks before and had spent a week in the city as a honeymoon.  Then it had been back to Chicago and into the middle of the whirlwind that was Nan planning their wedding celebration.

Which was why he was now sitting in the back of the room, sipping a very strong drink and hoping that no one realized right away that he wasn’t in the midst of the party, accepting hearty congratulations from everyone.  No sooner did he have the thought than he felt hands on his shoulders.

“Hiding out are you, love?” Eames whispered before pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Just for a few minutes.  I’ve shaken more hands and kissed more cheeks today than in the rest of my life combined.  At least Nan held herself back from inviting the entire city.”

”You mean this  _ isn’t _ the whole city?” Eames joked as he settled into the chair next to him and helped himself to a drink from his glass.  Only a few minutes passed before Ariadne dropped into the seat on the other side of Arthur, her face flushed from dancing.

“You two hiding?” she asked.

“Arthur was hiding, I’m just keeping him company like a dutiful husband should,” Eames replied and Ariadne laughed.

“Glad to hear that you know your place,” she teased.

“Oh, Arthur and I both know who wears the pants in this relationship,” Eames said and leaned closer to Arthur before he continued, “The perfectly tailored, hugs his ass like a second skin pants.”

“Says the man who’s wearing an ascot, and wearing it well.  Have I mentioned today that I can’t look at you in that without imagining me taking it off of you with my teeth?” Arthur said.  Eames’ nostrils flared and his pupils dilated in response.  Ariadne looked between them for a moment and then stood.

“I’m pretty sure that is my cue to… go and… find Dom or the kids… or… you know, anything but stay here.”  She disappeared into the revelers.

“Think we traumatized her?” Eames wondered.

“Or turned her on.  Hard to say for sure,” Arthur replied

“Did you mean what you said about the ascot?” Eames asked.

Arthur grinned, a decidedly predatory expression, and nodded.

“Brilliant, let’s go then.”  Eames yanked Arthur to his feet and pulled him quickly through a side door, waving away anyone who approached them.

He shoved Arthur into a dark room that turned out to be a small cleaning supply room once the door was closed and the lights were turned on.

“Could we be any more cliché?” Arthur asked with a chuckle.

“If we tried,” Eames said as he pushed Arthur back against the wall and began unfastening his belt.  Arthur took the hint and dipped his head down, nibbling a trail along Eames’ jaw and neck until he reached the silk of Eames’ tie.  He grabbed the tail of fabric and pulled it free with his teeth, slowly working the knot loose while Eames removed their coats and loosened their pants.  His nose brushed the tender underside of Eames’ jaw as he finally pulled the ascot free of the collar.  He straightened with the sapphire silk dangling from between his lips and Eames’ breath hitched.

“Fuck me, now,” Eames said and handed Arthur a condom and small container of lube he took from his pocket.

“You came prepared?” Arthur asked, a bit disbelieving.

“Did you honestly think I would be able to be at  _ our _ wedding reception with you looking like  _ that _ and  _ not _ need to fuck or be fucked before the evening was over?” Eames replied, his own voice just as incredulous.

“Well, when you put it that way, I would hate to have your preparedness be for nothing.”

Arthur grabbed Eames and spun him around, pushing against his shoulders until he braced his hands on a low shelf.  He slid both their pants down and slicked himself with lube.  He reached his fingers down to prep Eames and frowned when his fingernail scraped across something hard.

“I knew we would need to hurry, so I made sure I would be ready,” Eames said over his shoulder.  Arthur slid the butt plug lose and relished the hiss of pleasure from Eames.

“I had no idea you would be  _ this _ prepared,  _ darling _ ,” Arthur muttered as he thrust smoothly inside Eames, drawing another, louder, hiss.

“I do love to keep you guessing, Arthur.”

Arthur set a steady pace, eliciting whimpers and muffled cries from Eames.  Arthur draped himself over Eames’ arched back and wrapped his hand around Eames’ cock.

“Christ yes…” Eames breathed, and after a few strokes he came with a strangled cry, his muscles clenching around Arthur and forcing him to orgasm, too.

It took them a few minutes to catch their breath, but finally Arthur straightened and pulled away.  They cleaned up with water and paper towels from the sink in the corner.

They got dressed again and Arthur helped Eames retie his ascot and then pressed a fierce kiss against his lips.

“We should get back now,” Eames said and motioned to the door.  Arthur followed him out and back to the ballroom, where they slipped back in the side door they had left through.  Arthur was sure they had gotten in and out with minimal notice, until he caught Nan’s eye across the room.

Her knowing smile said it all.


	19. Lightening Strikes (Not Once But Twice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Eames are getting married again, and Arthur realizes that his family is bigger now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Stop The World

“I’m glad you two decided to have the ceremony and reception here.  It makes the planning much simpler.  I’ve already contacted the caterer and confirmed the appointment for menu tasting.  The florist and decorators will be here the morning of,” Eames’ mother explained.

Arthur and Eames mostly nodded and agreed to whatever Beatrice planned, knowing that with her connections, she could get things done faster and more easily than they could.

“About the photographer…” Eames started, but paused when Beatrice turned her gaze to him.

“Yes, what about that?” she asked.

“Arthur and I agreed that we don’t want this to be too public.  In our… line of work, we are trying to keep our relationship low profile,” Eames said.

“And your point is?” his mother replied.

“We don’t want photos of us showing up in The Sun.”

His mother looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked in challenge.

“If you think that I will allow my son to be married without there being photos taken…”

“No, mum, I’m not asking that.  I just want you to use Leslie for the photos instead of a stranger who can’t be trusted not to sell them.  An untitled son of a minor lord isn’t really newsworthy, but you never know with these people.”

Beatrice waved a hand in a dismissive gesture as she replied, “Really, Marcus.  Even if you weren’t being so bloody secretive with this whole thing, do you honestly think I would trust anyone but family with such an important task?”

Eames feigned shock and reached out to place his hands over Arthur’s ears.

“Your language, mother,” he scolded teasingly, “You have to be careful around Arthur’s virgin hearing!”  Arthur scowled and swatted Eames’ hands away as he opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off by Beatrice.

“If I thought Arthur had a virgin anything I would have demanded you make an honest man out of him years ago,” she replied with a wink as she stood to leave.

“I hate to ruin your lovely portrait of my husband, but there was nothing honest about him when I came into the picture,” Eames retorted.

“You know, I am still sitting right here,” Arthur reminded them.

“Yes, Arthur dear, we know,” Beatrice replied with a smile.  She paused and kissed him on top of the head as she left the room.

Arthur flushed with warmth at the maternal gesture, and glanced over to catch Eames watching him with a soft expression.

“What?” Arthur asked, his tone a little defensive.

“You’re family now, Arthur.  It’s okay to let your guard down here, just like you do with the family in Chicago,” Eames told him.  Arthur’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled slightly.

“I know, it’s just going to take some getting used to.”

“Speaking of family, only Yusuf and Saito are going to make it to this one, right?”

“Yeah, Ariadne has something with her family, and Dom couldn’t get Miles to watch the kids because of something at the school,” Arthur confirmed.

“We need to do something, soon, with all of us together,” Eames suggested.  Arthur thought about that a few minutes and nodded.

“We should take a trip, all of us.  Dom can bring the kids.  There is a villa I’ve always wanted to stay at on Peter Island,” Arthur said.

“Well, let’s get through this party first, and then we will whisk everyone away for some relaxation in the Caribbean,” Eames agreed.  Arthur nodded and took a deep breath, then set his shoulders resolutely.

“Okay, let’s go save your father from your mum and her fabric swatches.” 


	20. Life Is Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole gang is together again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Lightning Strikes (Not Once But Twice)

Their plan was to ring in the new year with their friends by renting a villa on a private island.  Dom said it sounded like overkill, Ariadne didn’t seem surprised at all and Saito offered to pick them all up in his private jet and fly them there.   
  
They settled on meeting in Spain, since they were all on that side of the Atlantic, and let Saito fly them to Tortola, where they would be picked up by the island’s private yacht and ferried to the resort.   
  
The more Arthur thought about it, the whole thing was a little over the top, but it suited them.   
  
“I’ve always wanted to own an island,” Saito said thoughtfully as they flew over Peter Island on their approach into Tortola, “Perhaps I will buy this one.  It looks nice.”   
  
Everyone glanced at each other, not sure how seriously to take the comment.   
  
“Yeah,” Ariadne said, drawing the word out thoughtfully, “You have fun with that, Saito.”   
  
“So tell me again what they have for us to do here?” Yusuf asked for about the fifth time.   
  
“Everything you might want to do on an island, or near the ocean, is there.  Spas, boats, snorkeling, restaurants, hiking.  And our villa has its own pool,” Arthur explained.   
  
“And our villa is called what again?” Yusuf prompted, and Arthur rolled his eyes.   
  
“It’s called the Hawk’s Nest and it overlooks Deadman’s Bay.”   
  
“And there will be fireworks for the New Year celebration?”   
  
“Yes... I know your memory isn’t that bad, Yusuf, so what gives?” Eames interrupted.   
  
Yusuf looked at them and grinned.   
  
“I’m just so happy to be taking a luxurious Caribbean vacation that I don’t have to spend a dime on that I’m enjoying hearing about it,” he said.  Arthur threw a pillow at him that he barely dodged.   
  
They completed their landing and Arthur helped Dom round up Phillipa and James so they could take the boat over.  The kids and Ariadne were both green by the time they reached Peter Island, but they perked up considerably as they took in their surroundings on the trip up to their villa.   
  
The driver helped him unload their bags and carry them into the foyer.  Once he was gone, they all dropped into chairs in the living room, exhausted from their trip.   
  
“There are three bedrooms in the main house and two in the pool house.  Dom and the kids can stay in a room, Eames and I will share of course, so the rest of you each get rooms to yourselves,” Arthur explained.   
  
“Oh, I want one in the pool house,” Ariadne volunteered.   
  
“I’ll take the other one out there,” Yusuf mumbled from where he had his head buried in the throw pillows of a sofa.   
  
“Does anyone feel like going down to the restaurant for dinner or should we have them bring something up?” Eames asked.  Everyone voted for eating in and going to bed early so they could start really enjoying everything the next day.   
  
++++++++++   
  
“Am I dreaming or did I just see Saito wearing shorts?” Arthur asked as he fixed his coffee a few days later.   
  
“That, my dear Arthur, was not a dream,” Ariadne replied.   
  
“When we commented on the shorts, he mentioned something about a Speedo, too.  I’m not sure if I should be amused or horrified,” Yusuf added.   
  
“I’d say both,” Dom said as he wandered in with the kids trailing behind him.   
  
“Well, it is a vacation.  And you’re wearing shorts, too, Arthur,” Eames pointed out.   
  
“That’s a good point, considering you’re usually as buttoned up as Saito is,” Ariadne agreed.   
  
“You can all fu... shut up now,” Arthur said, catching himself in front of the children.   
  
“Maybe I will get a Speedo.  Like Eames said, it’s a vacation,” Yusuf mused.   
  
“Okay,  _ now _ I’m horrified,” Eames said.   
  
++++++++++   
  
“He wasn’t lying about the Speedo,” Eames pointed out from his lounge chair on the sand.   
  
Arthur lifted his head and shaded his eyes with his hand, searching the water’s edge to confirm that yes, there was Saito, wearing black Speedo shorts.  Quite short shorts.   
  
“At least he looks good in them,” he commented and let his head drop back and his eyes close.   
  
“He better not look  _ too _ good in them,” Eames grumbled.  Arthur smiled and linked their fingers together in the space between their chairs.   
  
++++++++++   
  
They had been there two weeks, had all burned and were turning various shades of brown from so much time in the sun.  They had hiked and swam, gone diving and taken a sail, spent hours lounging on their balcony and had eaten more fantastic meals than they could count.   
  
The New Year’s Eve celebration had been huge, with fireworks and music and alcohol flowing like water.  They had all spent New Year’s Day recuperating by napping in hammocks on the beach.   
  
All in all, it had been a successful trip for their first time together as a full group in the three years since the inception job.   
  
They were enjoying their last evening on the island - they had dinner together at the house, catered from the restaurant down the hill.  The kids had been put to bed, and the adults were on the patio, relaxed and enjoying their cocktails.   
  
“So it’s back to normal life tomorrow,” Ariadne said, her lips pursed in a pout.   
  
“Yeah, kids have to get back to school, and I have papers to grade,” Dom replied.  He had taken a teaching assistant position with Miles.   
  
“Back to the lab.  I have a job in a few weeks and I have to finish the custom concoction they want,” Yusuf said.   
  
“I have to check in on the new building, and Ariadne is coming with me, since she is the chief architect,” Saito added, and Ariadne nodded her agreement.   
  
“I have a painting that needs finishing for a buyer,” Eames said.   
  
“And I have a security job to start on,” Arthur concluded.   
  
Dom looked around at them all with a thoughtful expression.   
  
“Other than Yusuf, it’s almost like the rest of us have retired,” he said.   
  
“If one can retire from being a tourist,” Saito replied with a grin and Dom laughed.   
  
“We still take dreamshare jobs,” Arthur pointed out, “We can just afford to be picky about who we work with.”   
  
“We’ve gotten more involved with our normal jobs, too, so it’s not like we aren’t working.  Arthur has made so many contacts with galleries that I’m painting and sculpting more than ever,” Eames explained.   
  
“And with Eames’ military experience added to mine, the consulting jobs have all been so smooth that we have more requests than I can actually do,” Arthur added.   
  
“My name is getting out there because of Saito’s building, so I haven’t done as much dreamshare, either,” Ariadne admitted.   
  
“We won’t retire completely, though.  We’re the best.  The best can’t all up and quit or the industry would be fucked,” Eames said.   
  
“Amen to that,” Yusuf said.   
  
“I propose a toast,” Saito said and they all sat up and leaned together so he could continue, “May the best never forget how they got here and never leave that behind.”   
  
They all clinked glasses and took a drink, smiling at each other as Saito held up his glass again.   
  
“And never, ever, think about elephants.”   
  
Their laughter rang through the hillside as the sun dropped below the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> Peter Island is a real place, in the British Virgin Islands. The Hawk’s Nest is real and they do have a private yacht for taking people from the near-by islands. http://www.peterisland.com/villas/hawks_nest
> 
> These are the types of shorts I picture Saito wearing -   
> http://www.speedousa.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3107141&sr=1&origkw=3124364&cp=3124322.3124332.11859612.3124364&cid=1062141
> 
> http://www.zappos.com/tommy-hilfiger-golf-bristol-cotton-bermuda-short-black?ef_id=UJgs1QAADcw6onOP:20121114214320:s


End file.
